


The Tale of Flowering Fortunes

by Professor_Bats



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, everyone is depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Bats/pseuds/Professor_Bats
Summary: A young shrine maiden is caught up in the ripples caused by the death of her closest friend, Obito Uchiha.We are given the innate ability to carve out our own fortunes; but will Murasaki flourish, or will the winds of change cause her to be blown from the branch too soon?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began Murasaki's story nearly a decade ago, publishing several attempts of her tale on FF.net. However, I was never genuinely satisfied with my writing. Now I'm at round three (and hopefully the final round). 
> 
> I've changed the plot around quite a bit now that Naruto had ended as a series, being able to fully flesh out how events took place in the beginning of the series instead of simply making a guess. 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, i present to you: The Tale of Flowering Fortunes

Kakashi lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the flash of sunlight that split through the leaves overhead, his sandals silent as they pushed off of the thick branches of the trees that grew tall around Konoha. 

It was going to be hot today. Not even noon and the temperature was already making the boy feel milky, his head swimming pleasantly as the light shot through leaves, illuminating the path ahead in soft yellows and greens. 

Minato-sensei had sent him to go find Obito; who was off doing whatever it was that Obito seemed intent on doing. The other boy certainly had a mind of his own; unfocused, unreliable. An absolute fool and…well… a failure. 

Kakashi slowed as the trees split before them, a weathered tori coming into view, a set of cracking stone steps leading to a small haiden, where a few worshipers had stopped to glance up as the blur passed overhead. 

He heard the bells ringing as the visitors stopped to pay their respects, clapping and bowing with grim faces. 

The boy stopped, turning to glance at the mourners and biting his cheek; he recognized them as members of the Yamanaka clan. They were clad in all black, the woman weeping softly into the black silk sleeves of her iro muji. They had lost a son earlier that week; no doubt they had come to have their son added to the list of dead…

He turned away, narrowing his dark eyes as he landed softly on the dusty road. No doubt Obito was close by, probably running around with that damned miko again.  
Down the raised berm the road was built on was a small grove of trees that opened up into farmland. A slight stream trickled down from an old irrigation trench, creating a soft ripple of diamond water that led past the thicket and out into the smooth fields of green. 

In the shade of the trees, Kakashi made out a flash of crimson; a knee cocked as its owner leaned against a tree.

Over the other sounds carried up the small valley, Kakashi picked out the voices of the other two children, and he leapt forward, landing effortlessly between the two fugitives.  
It took Obito a moment to process Kakashi’s intrusion, and the young miko even longer to realize that Hatake Kakashi was now stranding in between her and her target. A fresh clod of grass and dirt was clutched in her filthy fingers, poised to be thrown at the Uchiha.

Sunlight played through the swaying leaves, casting flickering shadows across the three figures. 

Kakashi stood with his hands on his hips, narrowed eyes glaring down at Obito. “Stop messing around. Sensei is looking for you. We have a mission.” 

Obito pulled up a fist full of grass by the root, screwing up his lips into somewhere between a smirk and a pout. Before Obito had the chance to throw the clod at the other boy, Kakashi stepped out of the way, causing the boy to hurl the mass straight at the younger girl, who shrieked with laughter as she shielded herself from the onslaught.

“Now.” Kakashi said sternly, ignoring the girl behind them. He wasn’t going to dignify her with a glance. She was annoying. And loud. Not as loud as Obito, but there was something about her that annoyed Kakashi even more than the other boy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Ever since they’d run that D-rank mission for the priest a few years before, Obito and the girl had been as close to inseparable as friends could get. 

“But Murasaki and I were getting omikuji…” Obito said, his voice hushed, though his smile audible. “Don’t you want to get your fortune Ka-ka-shi-kun?” The other boy teased.

“Do both of you want one?” The girl asked, rising to her feet. She was nine or ten, a bit shorter than both of them, with large grey eyes, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the crown of her head. Beneath her eyes were little slivers of red, streaking down over full cheeks. 

She wasn’t exactly a pretty girl, Kakashi had thought, but she wasn’t ugly either. She seemed a bit wild, unprincipled when the priest wasn’t looking, and that was perhaps the biggest annoyance for him. She enabled Obito’s behavior, which is what got on Kakashi’s nerves the most.  
Obito rose to his feet. 

“Come on, Kakashi…don’t you want to take a peek into the future?”

“No.” The other boy said, his voice flat. He didn’t believe in that mumbo-jumbo. 

Murasaki was looking at Obito with an expectant expression, as if waiting for him to come up with a retort, as if she were incapable of her own defense.

“At least let me pay my respects before we go.” Obito said, giving Murasaki a sly smile that implied to Kakashi that no actual respect would be paid.  
Kakashi watched him carefully, crossing his arms. The miko’s willingness to humor Obito was frustrating at a time like this.

“Fine, whatever. Just make it quick, and don’t bother the other people.” Kakashi didn’t want an argument, and he didn’t want to have to deal with Obito whining all the way back to the village. Minato had told Kakashi he needed to learn to choose his battles, and this wasn’t a fight he was in the mood for. There would be plenty of other things to bicker over later. 

Obito grinned and the group climbed the hill, Murasaki’s hakama making the softest rustling sound in the deep grass as she struggled against the incline, twisting the grass in her fingers and almost crawling up the steep hill. 

Kakashi reached out, catching her elbow as she climbed, her hands crusted with dry red dirt. Her once white haori was smudged in the deep brown of the soil from beneath the trees, her peachy cheeks grimy and bits of grass clinging to her hair. He guessed the dirt fight had been going on for at least a few minutes before he’d intervened. 

Kakashi scoffed at her disheveled appearance, pulling her upwards onto the dusty road. She was holding them back, and each second she wasted was a second he couldn’t get back. 

Obito was the first to wash in the basin outside the shrine, running the clear, clean water over his hands. Second came Murasaki, who did it with practiced ease, her muscles moving almost without thinking. Both Murasaki and Obito stood, looking expectantly at Kakashi, who thrust his hands in his pockets and turned away. He wasn’t going, he decided, and leaned heavily against the tori. 

“Stop wasting time.” He scoffed, watching them from the corner of his eyes. Murasaki glanced at Obito with a shrug and the two disappeared up the crumbling steps, the young miko leading the way as she lifted the hem of her Hakama pants. Silently, they passed the red-eyed Yamanaka couple on the way up, Murasaki’s head bowing downward in respect. 

The summer breeze carried with it the scent of wisteria blossoms, the house adjacent to the shrine covered with the flowering plant, the variegated purple blossoms creating a soft shade on the porch. He could see the priest’s wife working in the kitchen, placing a bamboo steamer atop a pot of boiling water. She looked up and smiled, pushing her fine black hair out of her face. 

Kakashi looked away, not wanting the young woman to get the impression she needed to come out and greet him. 

Obito wasn’t gone for as long as Kakashi expected; he’d learn to set his expectations low when waiting for the Uchiha. When Obito came back down the steps, Murasaki was not with him, but he was twirling a charm around his fingers, the sunlight catching the lavender and green omamori. 

“What’s that?”

“A thing. Murasaki gave it to me. For luck or something, I guess. My fortune wasn’t very good, so…” He shrugged. 

Kakashi rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.” he hissed. “Sensei is waiting.”

XxX

It had been over a month since Murasaki had seen Obito, which wasn’t unusual. They were at war, Obito had said. Murasaki had known it before he’d told her; the number of Shinobi that stopped by the shrine was dwindling, but the numbers of their families increased. Draped in black with swollen red eyes, adding their loves ones to the register and solemnly ringing the bells. 

Kogimi was gone almost constantly, coming back with bags of exhaustion beneath his eyes, his robes smelling heavily of incense. Murasaki and Kogimi ’s wife, Chujo, would begin the purification process. Only would they cleanse him from the last funeral when they would be preparing him for the next. It seemed there was no end to the amount of death that ripped through the Land of Fire, both civilian and shinobi.

Murasaki wondered of the fighting would come to Konoha, the thought filling her with dread. The shrine was undefended, and Chujo was heavily pregnant. Konoha shinobi had no real reason to come to their aid, other than out of respect for their dead relatives enshrined there 

The sun burned brightly overhead, the birds singing cheerily in the trees. Chujo was kneeling on the porch outside the kitchen, the doors thrown wide to the late summer heat. Cicadia’s cried from the trees, creating an incessant static that made Murasaki’s head fuzzy. It was difficult to concentrate, the scent of the fading wisteria blossoms perfuming the air heavily. 

Chujo’s small, white hands were balanced on the top of her swollen belly as she peeled vegetables. Murasaki sat on the edge of the porch, her own fingers busy twisting white paper into streamers to adorn a new shide.

Today was quiet, the shrine calm for once. In the garden, Kogimi was whistling cheerily, tossing weeds to the side. The warm wind rustled the trees; the leaves scraping together softly, already beginning to dry and signal the onslaught of autumn. 

On days like this, it seemed impossible that a war was raging, encroaching on the borders of the Land of Fire, but there was an unspoken tension between Murasaki and Chujo, and Kogimi’s façade was calm but forced; it was difficult to fight the fear that permeated the people who lived outside the walls of the Leaf Village. 

Chujo put her knife down, placing her hand warmly on her stomach and making a soft noise as the baby seemingly kicked, but Murasaki didn’t look up at the young woman, instead her eyes fixed on the figure of a tall man climbing the shrine steps. 

He was lean, his creamy muscles rippling in the afternoon light as he approached, his face obscured by a cat mask. Murasaki exchanged a glance with Chujo, who had frozen, dark eyes frozen on the man.

The man bowed, kneeling before the two women, dropping to one knee and arching his shoulders forward. 

“Fujiwara-san, your presence has been requested by Lord Hokage.” His voice was deep and smooth, muffled behind the mask. Murasaki nearly dropped the shide she had carefully folded, glancing over at Chujo. The woman’s face was pale and she nodded, rising to her feet and leading Murasaki inside without a word. 

In the garden, the man remained, as if he were a statue. 

“Chujo-san, what do we do?”

“You should go with him.” Chujo said softly, pulling a box out of a closet, her fingers shaking. “He’s ANBU, so you can trust him…” She set the box down carefully, kneeling and withdrawing a chihaya out and helping Murasaki into it. The robe was a little long for her, but the volume of her hakama helped keep the fine silk from dragging on the ground. 

“Gather a branch from the sakaki tree for a tamagushi. I’ll go out and tell our guest to wait.”

Murasaki nodded, gathering her sleeves and fleeing silently out the front door, slipping her straw sandals on before she climbed the stairs.  
Chujo didn’t even need to say anything; Murasaki knew why she was being summoned. 

Hot tears ran down her face as she clapped at the entrance of the shrine, wishing for nothing more than to remain face-down on the shrine floor. 

Dutifully, she picked herself up, gathering a branch and returning to the house. The ANBU stood silently, Chujo having gone back to peeling vegetables in silence, her dark eyes soft with empathy. 

Hastily, Murasaki tied the shide onto the small branch, wiping her eyes on her sleeves before gathering it up in her arms and blinking up at the masked man. 

“Be home before nightfall.” Chujo called softly as the man led the young miko down the steps of the shrine in a solemn procession.


	2. Chapter 2

At the enormous green gates of the village, the masked man made Murasaki sign a ledger stating her name and her purpose for entering the village.  
Above her name she noted other civilian signatures, the listed reason for a visit the same set of kanji as hers; funeral. 

Her stomach twisted and she fought back tears. It was beautiful that day, golden sunlight pouring in through narrow streets. 

Through the breaks in the rooftops, Murasaki caught the occasional glance of the sandstone cliffs that overlooked the village, four faces carved from its rugged surface.  
The man led her to a large, red building marked with a large kanji that read ‘fire’. 

The inside was dark as he led her through a winding hallway, the ANBU nodding to a pair of similarly masked guards before telling Murasaki to wait in the hallway.  
The waiting was the worst part; the air was close and Murasaki felt like she was going to faint from the heat of her layered garments. Clutching the tamagushi in her hands, she looked up slowly at each of the guards, who made no sign to acknowledge her presence. She echoed their manners, not letting her glance linger on them for more than a second as she stared straight ahead.

Somewhere on her way to the village, a sharp lump had formed in the girl’s throat, as if she had swallow shards of glass. Her eyes watered as she tried to choke back a fresh wave of tears, breathing in through her nose as she struggled to not let her knees buckle and her tears fall freely. The ANBU guards were just standing there, stiff as corpses and staring straight ahead. They may as well have been logs for all the movement that they made. 

After what seemed like hours, one of the large doors opened and a woman with a long sheet of crimson hair appeared. 

“Murasaki-san, isn't it?” She bowed in a short, polite manner. Murasaki was so struck by the woman that she had momentarily forgotten her manners, bowing hastily in response. 

Despite the warmth of the smile on the woman’s face, her eyes were red from tears, the skin around them swollen. “Please forgive us the short notice…oh.” She looked down at the branch in Murasaki’s hand, her eyes softening with sadness. “Step inside, my husband will want to tell you himself…”

Husband? Murasaki stepped forward, squaring her shoulders and pleading with herself not to cry. The man in the cat mask was standing stiffly in the corner, his posture unmoving like the two other guards outside.

The man Murasaki recognized as Obito’s sensei was sitting behind a desk, draped in long white robes, looking more tired than Murasaki had ever seen him. It wasn’t the battle-haggard expression he normally hid behind his smile, but it was a sorrow of the deepest degree. 

“Murasaki-san, I’m very glad you could join us today.” He said kindly, standing up. Everyone else in the room was wearing black, from head to toe. There were a few Murasaki recognized from the shrine, and many more she didn’t. No one spoke, save for the Hokage.

A tall man with wild, silver hair was leaning against the window sill, his eyes a mixture of confusion and sorrow as they followed her every movement. A large scroll sat flush against his back, and his face was large and square, with red marks descending across his cheekbones. He looked a little like a toad, she decided, his gaze making her uncomfortable. Their eyes met and he frowned deeply, disapproval etched in the lines around his mouth.

Minato’s hand fell on her shoulder and Murasaki could no longer hold back the tears, gritting her teeth as they fell freely down her face. 

“You must know, then. Obito and Rin?” Minato said softly. Murasaki inhaled deeply, averting her eyes and nodding abruptly. Everyone seemed to be looking as her and she felt her heartbeat leap into her throat, her ears beginning to fill with a roaring sound. She wanted to scream, to run from the room and back down the dusty road to the shrine.

But she stayed rooted on the spot, her eyes glued to the floor as snot and tears poured down her face. Instead, she buried her face in her sleeves, trying to hide her shame.

The door opened again and in walked Kakashi, his one visible eye filled with the same immeasurable grief that filled Murasaki. His body language was almost mechanical as he moved forward. 

Minato’s expression was pained, though the older man said nothing, simply tilting his head to look at the two as he placed one hand on each of their shoulders.

xXx

Kakashi had felt a mixture of relief and terror course through him when he saw the miko standing in the Hokage’s office, weeping quietly into her sleeves. He didn’t want to admit how much it grounded him to see her at least some aspect of his old life still remained intact. 

Amid the balm of relief to see her wet cheeks, full of life as she stood beside him during the ceremony, the young shinobi felt a distinct fear seize in his heart. Would her fate be the same as Obito’s or Rins? Would duty force his hand again? Would she become another sacrifice?

The memory of Rin’s face butted his mind and he felt like his chest was constricting slowly. His new sharingan throbbed beneath his forehead protector and he let out a gasp, clutching his face as the pain shout through the back of his skull, making his teeth ache from the agony. 

Murasaki hadn’t looked up at him since he’d walked into Minato’s office. She’s walked in front of him at the procession, carrying the tamagushi as she followed the Hokage, but her head had been bowed. She refused to look at him.

Soon, she would know him as ‘friend killer’. Just as the rest of the village called him. 

He couldn’t bear to hear those words come from her mouth. She was the last thing he had that even remotely could be called a ‘friend’, and even then…

Kakashi’s mind traveled back to the last time he’d seen her, feeling his bitterness swell inside. 

He had been foolish back then. He’d complained of things that weren’t necessary. He should have gone into the shrine with Obito. He should had washed his hands, said hello to the priest’s wife. 

Maybe things would have been different. Maybe Rin would be alive. Maybe it would have been him buried under that pile of rubble at Kannabi Bridge. 

Kakashi swallowed hard, thrusting his hand into his pocket, his hand moving across the woven purple silk of the omamori that Murasaki had gifted Obito. 

In a fit of jealousy, he’d stolen it from the other boy, teased him with it. But it was clear Obito didn’t care as deeply for it as Kakashi did. After a few weeks, the Omamori had been forgotten by the Uchiha, but Kakashi remembered it.

Exhaling, he blinked his eyes. A smattering of grey butts were gathering in the blue sky that hung above Konoha. Everyone was awash in a sea of black, save for Murasaki, in her crimson hakama, her dutiful gaze fixed ahead as she held the sakaki branch in front of her, as if to ward off the pain and death that had befallen everyone else in Kakashi’s life. 

Mourners placed flowers on the memorial, the sweet scent filling the air, along with a close moisture that seemed to hint at an evening rain. 

Kakashi buried his hands deeper in his pockets, watching as the gathering of flowers grew, entombing the memorial stone. The sight made him cringe as he recalled in vivid detail Obito’s face as the rocks buried him, the stone staring him accusingly from beneath its shroud of white petals. 

He wanted to run, his stomach churning and his heart aching as he stared ahead, his mind feeling like it would never stop replaying the events. Rocking gently on the balls of his feet, he grit his teeth to try to bring himself back to reality. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and almost stepped back, jerking his arm backwards as if to stab at the unseen intrusion. 

Minato stepped out of the way, clicking his tongue softly. “It’s all right, it’s just me…” 

Kakashi felt a keen sharpness overcome him and felt his knees shake a little before he caught himself, lowering his arm and shrugging his sensei’s hand away.  
“I’m fine.” Kakashi said, his voice coming out more cold and distant than he had intended. 

“The service is over.” Minato said softly. Kakashi broke his gaze, shifting his eyes to look around the quickly dispersing crowd. A few mourners had stayed behind, standing as still as statues. Kakashi closed his eyes for a moment. 

When he opened them, Murasaki was looking at him finally, her eyes red and puffy, though it seems the tears had subsided. 

“I think it’s time to go back…”

“I want to stay.” Kakashi replied, his eyes roving back to the stone. Minato’s own eyes were over bright, though he hadn’t shed a tear. He was true to the ninja way. 

“Come on, then, Murasaki-san. Let’s get you home.”

Murasaki broke her gaze from Kakashi. “Hokage-sama, with all due respect…I’d like to stay here for a few minutes as well.”

Minato hesitated, but nodded. “I’ll send someone to collect you…”

Kakashi felt his heart race to his ears, feeling his blood pumping at the thought of being left alone with her, fear of what might happen throbbing deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Murasaki remained silent, the silk of her ceremonial vestments rusting in the breeze. She stepped forward in silence, laying the tamagushi at the foot of the monument, kneeling in the hard stone surface and clasping her hands. He watched as she bowed her head, resting her forehead on her thumbs. 

Summoning his courage, he approached silently, the lump in his throat rising. He knew what he had to do, but finding the courage to do so was difficult at this moment. 

“I killed her.” Kakashi said lowly, forcing his voice to be calm. 

Murasaki sat motionless, though he could tell she’d heard him. Her body stiffened. 

“I killed her.” He repeated. “And Obito…”

“No you didn’t.” She said, her voice a steady, gut-wrenching calm. She spoke with so much certainty that for a moment, Kakashi was selfishly hopeful of her disbelief. After a moment, she rocked back on her heels, bracing her hands on the knees of her red pants. “It’s not your fault. It’s… It was an accident. It’s war. It’s terrible but…”

“No.” Kakashi said abruptly. Murasaki remained motionless, her large grey eyes staring straight ahead. The only way to keep her safe would be to make her leave. To make her cut ties with the village. To force her to leave and never come back. 

“I put my hand through…” Kakashi paused, his teeth grinding as the memories flooded back. His voice was shaking, but he controlled himself with his perfect calm. “I ran her through.” He raised his hand in a gesture. “I killed her with my chidori.”

She rose, lowering her eyes and turning to him. He could see her jaw moving, gritting her teeth. Was she going to punch him? Would she dare?

Stiffing his resolve, he pressed further. “Do you see? I…I’ll kill you too, someday…” He was beginning to falter, feeling himself recoil from her. Her eyes were now on him, her gaze unsettling. There was something about it; an emptiness that was so uncharacteristic it seemed to strike through him. 

He turned to go, rolling his lips together beneath his mask as he thrust his shaking hands into his pocket. “Obito was in love with Rin anyway.” He said, closing his fingers around the omamori once again and feigning a shrug. Tears had welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. It felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest anew. 

Who was he trying to hurt here? Was it her? Or was he only trying to punish himself?

“I don’t understand.” She said. She was looking at him now, her gaze solid and imbued with a quiet anger. She would cry again.

Kakashi rolled his tongue into the roof of his mouth to keep himself from responding. To keep himself from telling her he was doing this because he cared. Because he seemed to be cursed somehow, and the only way to protect her is to put distance between them. 

Instead, he just walked away, leaving Murasaki standing, confused and angry as he disappeared into the trees. 

xXx

Murasaki felt her body flush with shock even after the older boy had disappeared into the trees. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut and she desperately needed to sit down. 

The miko’s mind reeled at Kakashi’s words; how much of it had been true, and how much of it had been survivor’s guilt?

Kogimi had spoken about this before. Sometimes, survivors would come to the shrine, seeking purification to absolve them from their imagined sins. 

It rarely worked, from what Murasaki understood. She’d overheard the hushed conversations between Kogimi and Chujo when they thought she was asleep. The thought of Kakashi going down that same path scared Murasaki. 

She shivered in the early autumn breeze, crossing her arms over her shoulders. Her eyes hurt from crying, and her soul felt raw from today’s ordeal. It still didn’t quite feel like reality. She’d cried from shock and horror, but the true gravity of the situation had yet to set in.

Without any idea of how to proceed, she began to wander back towards where she guessed she had come with Minato and the others. Kakashi’s words played over and over in her head and she found herself getting worked up, the painful lump that had taken up residence in her throat seeming to suffocate the poor girl. 

“Hey kid.” 

Murasaki was ripped from her thoughts and she looked up at the figure that had appeared in front of her. 

The white-haired man from the Hokage’s office was leaning on a low cement wall in front of her, his arms folded as he looked at her appraisingly. Murasaki stopped, glancing around for a moment to make sure she was the one he was speaking to. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, kiddo.” He stood up to his full height. Murasaki froze, looking up and down the road to see if there was anyone nearby. She didn’t know him, and he seemed to have caught her quite alone. 

“Yes?” She asked after a moment. 

“Whose kid are you? You’re not from the village, are you?”

Murasaki stepped back, looking down the road. She wanted to run even more than she had before. 

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” He scoffed, reaching up and scratching the back of his head with a lazy yawn. “The names Jiraiya.”

Murasaki hesitated, before bowing politely and introducing herself. Jiraiya seemed vaguely amused. 

“You’re pretty intense, kid.” He said with a slight laugh. “Min-er…the Hokage asked me to take you back to the shrine.”

“I’m grateful.” Murasaki said, her arms aching from the stiffness as she bowed again. Was he to be trusted? “But if you could only show me the way to the front gates I can find my own way back…”

“Dial it back, kiddo.” Jiraiya replied, his expression one of mixed amusement. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer someday.”

Murasaki nodded as he fell into step with her, the sound of his geta irritating her sore head. They walked in relative silence, the older man watching her as they walked. 

“Is there a problem, Jiraiya-san?” She asked as they crossed onto the main street. On one side, Murasaki could see the Hokage monument, its stone faces ever vigilant over the rooftops. On the other side of her was a ramen stand, the smell of cooking noodles wafting through the curtains. 

“You look familiar…” He said, stopping and looking closer. “But you’re not an Inuzuka. You’re too polite.” He laughed. 

Murasaki stared at him blankly and he sobered a little. “Sorry, kid. It’s been a rough day for a lot of us.”

They passed shops, most of which were still closed from the ceremony. A few places were open, though, and Jiraiya stopped and bought them dango, both of their stomach growling loudly at the smell.

Murasaki was suspicious of his intentions; had Minato really sent this man to take her home? Or was this something more sinister? He certainly cut a terrifying figure, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intentions.

“You do have a family, don’t you?” He asked in a muffled voice, his mouth full of dango as they passed a boulevard of trees. 

Murasaki stopped, tentatively tasting the sauce of the dumpling before taking a bite of the confection. She was careful not to drip on her robes, Jiraiya watching her with an exasperating closeness.

“I have Chujo-san and Kogimi-sensei.” She said carefully. “They’re waiting for me at home.”

“The shrine, yeah.” Jiraiya nodded. “Who are your parents, though? You keep dodging my question.”

Murasaki knit her brow. She understood that it was important in the village; there were clans and clan rivalries. But the simple fact was she honestly didn’t know. 

The stories the previous priest had told her changed depending on what mood he was in; some days it was an actress, others it was a noblewoman. Sometimes it was a prostitute. The truth is, no one really knew. One day, about nine years previous, a baby girl had been left screaming and wrapped in a silk obi on top of the saisen at the shrine. She'd just...become an installment at the shrine since then. No one questioned it anymore. 

In response to Jiraiya’s query, Murasaki only shrugged. Her origins were, after all, hardly his business. 

Jiraiya seemed more understanding than she expected, placing one large hand on her shoulder. 

“Are they at least good to you?” He asked, a softness appearing around his eyes.

Murasaki nodded almost immediately, remembering Chujo’s soft words of encouragement. They were as close to family as she could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing style has changed so much, but i'm a bit less insufferable than I was when I stopped writing this 7ish years ago. 
> 
> .


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never praised  
> Never worried over–  
> That is the kind of person  
> That I want to be  
> -Miyazawa Kenji

Kakashi sat in silence in the darkness of his apartment, his palms pressed firmly against the bedspread as he watched the rain spatter the glass.  
His limbs felt heavy and for a few moments, it seemed like he was observing himself from the outside of his body, his brain spinning and throbbing.  
The grief had hit him after he’d left Murasaki in that open field, and he’d retreated into the cool silence of his apartment. The solitude that once helped him only now added to the feeling of despair that welled up in the back of his throat.

As the sun set behind my butts that had gathered, Kakashi remained unmoving, wallowing in his own grief as she looked with swollen, tired eyes at the photograph of his old team. Half of them dead. 

It wasn’t unusual. Other teams had lost much more than his, but that did nothing to lessen his grief, no matter how many times he’d told himself. 

Other people had it worse. 

Kakashi bit his lip, feeling his chest tighten as his body acted on its own. The cry that ripped from his throat sounded like the dying throes of some wild animal, his chest aching as the tears suddenly began pouring down his face. Throwing his head back, he sat back on the bed, letting his grief and anger burst forth as he finally let the tears fall.

It was therapeutic, and Kakashi hadn’t realized how much he just needed to let it all go. His head hurt, and his nose was running, but he let himself just cry it out, now curled into the fetal position on the bed. 

He awoke in the night to the sound of thunder, his eyes almost swollen shut. Gritting his teeth, he rose, discarding his damp shirt in the laundry as he shuffled towards the bathroom to wash his face and get a drink of water. 

The window was open just a little, the curtain trailing softly in the cool breeze of Konoha’s autumn. 

Kakashi went to the window, glancing out across the silent village, its lights dimmed in slumber as his thoughts strayed to the future. The glass in his hand shook a little, but he drank the water in small sips. Like the soft rain that now fell over Konoha, it soothed his aching throat, cleansing him of the anguish that had filled him hours before. 

He knew it would be rough from here on out. There would be more losses to come, but the war was over, and now was a time for growth. 

xXx

Murasaki and Jiraiya arrived at the shrine just as the sky opened up, releasing torrential rain down on the wooden rooftops and causing the wisteria flowers to grow heavy with droplets. 

Murasaki removed her shoes, cringing at how dusty her tabi had gotten during the course of the day. She’d been too preoccupied with…

She stopped herself, her eyes welling again as she slid open the front door and announced her return. She had done her best not to think about it, her brain seeming to fill with a static fuzz whenever the subject leered on the horizon.

Jiraiya seemed to have picked up on this, because he never broached the subject of Obito and Rin to her, through it was pretty clear he had a great number of questions for the miko.

In the time it had taken for them to reach the shrine from the village, Murasaki had gotten to know him a little better. Jiraiya didn’t seem like a terrible person, though she wasn’t sure how to feel about him. He was clearly a womanizer, a lech, but she guessed that that was a foil for something else that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.  
The inside of the house was dark, and it seemed Chujo and Kogimi were not at home. 

Strange… 

Murasaki tried to play it off as if nothing unusual was going on, offering instead to make tea so her escort could wait out the storm and warm up a little. 

The floor in the kitchen was wet, the fluid soaking into the cotton of Murasaki’s tabi. She raised her foot to look at the liquid and stepped back after a moment.  
In the pale light flooding in from the sliding door of the living room, it looked almost yellowish. 

Jiraiya appeared in the doorway behind her. 

“Is everything all right, kid?”

Murasaki didn’t respond, crossing to the other side of the room and pressing the button for the lights. Now that she could see better, she noticed that dinner was half-made, the stove having been doused in a hurry. 

Half-cooked rice sat in a pot over the stove, the embers inside cool enough for the girl to touch.

“Left in a hurry.” Jiraiya looked around the kitchen, his eyes falling on the puddle on the floor. A slight smile crossed his features and he let out a little laugh. “They’ll be back sometime tomorrow, no need to worry.”

Murasaki looked at him, knitting her brow. “Sorry?”

“You said your mistress was pregnant, right?” He chuckled, though there was a tug at the corners of his mouth that suggested Jiraiya seemed more sad than happy. Murasaki nodded in understanding, a mix of emotions filling her. She had been looking forward to Chujo’s baby for a long time, but what an inauspicious time…

Together, they cleaned the mess, tossing out the browning vegetables and mopping the puddle from the floor. 

The stove was too damp to light, so Murasaki gathered the striker and the kettle, going back into the living room and lifting the wooden panel from the floor. 

In a few moments, a warm fire was cracking in the irori, the kettle hanging above it. It hadn’t been used in a few years, not since the kitchen had been added, before Kogimi had become head priest. 

Jiraiya preferred to sit by the door, looking out at the raindrops that pelted the ground outside the house. After a few minutes, Murasaki joined him, pouring them both cups of tea and kneeling opposite to him. 

He accepted the tea wordlessly, but didn’t drink it, his eyes looking tired. Murasaki had a great number of questions, but held back. 

Jiraiya was the first one to break the silence. 

“So what did you think? Was it everything you thought it would be?”

The village. He was asking about the village. Murasaki had confessed earlier that it had been her first time visiting. 

“It…I thought it would be different.” Murasaki said quietly, looking down into the swirling green froth in her cup. “Obito said…”

Jiraiya turned sharply, an understanding expression on his face. Murasaki put the cup down, clutching the knees of her hakama as tears began to pour down her face again. 

“He said it was smaller.” She finished, her voice shaking as she drew her sleeves up to her face and wept. Jiraiya made a sound, his large hand grasping her shoulder firmly as she began to sob incoherently. “I…I thought it would be different...”

“We all think things are going to be a lot different than they turn out.” Jiraiya said, his voice barely more than a soft rumble beneath the sound of thunder outside. 

xXx

Jiraiya was still there when Murasaki woke the next morning. He was outside on the porch, a melon sliced carefully on the lacquered tray beside him. 

Murasaki felt a slight twist of panic, unsure what to do. Hastily, she combed her hair before joining the older man on the porch. He was writing carefully in a little notebook, but put the notebook away when Murasaki joined him. 

“Good morning.” He said, his tone cheerful. Murasaki looked around for a moment, her head feeling a little light. She’d spent so much of the night in tears, waking up every few hours. 

“You’re still here?” She asked dumbly, immediately wishing she could grasp the words out of thin air and cram them back into wherever they came from. Jiraiya only chuckled, a deep, rumbling belly-laugh that seemed to lessen the sting of the infraction. 

“Yes, I didn’t think you’d want to be left alone here.” He said, sliding the tray of sliced melon towards her. “Eat up, kid. I’ll take you back into Konoha to check on that priest of yours.” 

Murasaki nodded, taking the melon tentatively in her hands before muttering her thanks. 

Jiraiya helped Murasaki with the chores, mostly by observing, and they set out in relative silence. 

The sun burned bright overhead. Both of them seemed lethargic, the glare burning into their tired eyes. The miko secretly wished that she could have slept in another hour, though she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach; these past two days had been an emotional whirlwind. She still felt raw from the funeral the day before, but the thought of Chujo and Kogimi’s baby arriving gave her a small measure of hope. 

The road was still damp from last night’s rain, large puddles forming on the road and the old irrigation trenches brimming with muddy rainwater. The entire forest seemed deafened, the birds chirping distantly as the leaves seemed to move a slow motion that matched Murasaki’s lethargy.

Now that Murasaki knew the way to the village, it seemed much shorter, though still a decent ways off for a civilian. There were faster ways; she’d seen shinobi jumping from tree to tree, or rooftop to rooftop, and had always wondered how it was done, each movement looking no more conspicuous than that of a passing shadow. 

When she’d tried to mimic the movements herself, she had only fallen out of a tree and cracked her wrist. Obito couldn’t look at her without laughing for nearly a month. 

Perhaps Jiraiya couldn’t do it, either, or perhaps he was withholding this ability because Murasaki couldn’t keep up. 

“What’s eating you, kid?” Jiraiya turned when Murasaki stopped, her eyes on a large tree beside the trail. 

She lifted her eyes from the road, the sunlight almost too bright for her eyes to adjust. She must have looked something awful, because the older mans face shifted from an expression of polite curiosity to an almost pained look. 

“Right. Dumb question.” He adjusted the scroll on his back, considering her for a moment. “Have you ever thought of becoming a kunoichi?”

Murasaki frowned, looking down at her feet. Her tabi had quickly become spattered with reddish mud from the road, despite her walking carefully. 

“I…thought it would be fun.” Murasaki confessed after a moment. “But now…I don’t think it would be.”

Jiraiya’s expression softened and he smiled a little. “Ah kid, it’s not always going to be like this, you know?”

Murasaki nodded solemnly, feeling a heaviness settle into her shoulders. Her lip trembled but she bit back a fresh wave of tears. It certainly felt like this feeling was going to last forever. Jiraiya crouched in front of her, putting his hands on her arms.

“Come on, kid, don’t cry.” He looked around, a hint of panic in his eyes. Murasaki clenched her jaw to try to keep her emotions in check, but felt tears welling in her eyes. 

“Sorry, Jiraiya-sama.” Murasaki wiped her face on her sleeve, sniffing heavily as she tried to regain her composure. A breeze stirred up the leaves that had come to rest on the forest floor, scattering them around the two as they stood in silence. Murasaki inhaled deeply, rubbing her eyes with her palms and rolling her shoulders, trying to ground herself.

“It’s okay, kid.” Jiraiya stood, ruffling her hair softly. “It’s been rough on all of us. Let’s just take it easy for now.”

Murasaki nodded, feeling his large hand fall heavily on her shoulder as proceeded down the road towards Konoha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "None is travelling  
> Here along this way but I,  
> This autumn evening."  
> -Matsuo Basho

It had been nearly a month since the funeral, but Kakashi still found himself listless, unable to focus on anything. 

He slept a lot, which helped pass the time, but even so, his dreams were plagued by nightmares of Obito’s face, or Rins eyes as life drained slowly from them. He could see her mouth moving softly, forming words that only he could hear: A confession of love with her dying breath. 

 

It felt terrible. Even though he’d promised Obito to take care of her, he still couldn’t bring himself to see her that way. 

She had been kind, beautiful, there was no doubt, but…

The hiss of water boiling over jerked Kakashi out of his pensive thoughts. He wiped his face on his sleeve, his transplanted eye acing dully. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying.  
It happened more and more frequently now. Small moments where he’d get s lost thinking about things that he’d seen. He’s sometimes lay on the futon for hours, just staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes he’d snap out of it and his face would be hot and wet with tears, his mask saturated. 

Sometimes Minato would check on him to make sure he was still okay, but he was frequently busy with his duties as Hokage; Restoring peace with people you had once been trying to kill was no easy task. 

Kakashi took the rice off the burner, glancing in at the overcooked paste that had formed inside the pan before tossing it into the sink with a heavy sigh. 

Outside the window, the sky was thick with dark butts. It was the rainy season in Konoha. The days were shorter now, which did nothing to improve the boy’s mood.  
A knock on the door shortened his moment of brooding, and he debated answering it for a moment. But the second knock was more forceful, and Kakashi recognized the rhythm, knowing better than to ignore his sensei. 

He opened the door, feeling a bitter taste fill his mouth. He swallowed hard, bowing in greeting. Minato stepped inside, placing one gentle hand on the teen’s shoulder. Large blue eyes roved around the apartment and his brows knit softly. 

Kakashi avoided eye contact, a little embarrassed by how messy he’d let the place become; he hadn’t been aware of how much garbage and dirty clothes were laying around until now. 

Instead of looking around, Minato smiled warmly. “Have you eaten today? Let’s get some fresh air, hmm?” 

Kakashi reluctantly shrugged, looking over at the mess he’d made of the kitchen, his limbs feeling heavy. 

“Come on, let’s get your shoes on. You can’t just be sitting around moping in the dark like this.”

XxX

Murasaki’s hands had taken on a slight chill as she tightly gripped the broom, looking up at the way the sunlight filtered through the red and gold leaves on the trees that surrounded the shrine. 

Chujo was inside, speaking softly to the baby as she nursed. The chaos that Murasaki had felt for the week following Koremitsu’s birth had succumbed to an almost numbness of the soul. 

She was aware that there was grief, anger, and hurt boiling beneath the surface, but she knew she couldn’t let it eat her alive, even if the despair seemed to have settled into her chest.

There were times, at night, when the silver of the moon crept through the thin paper blinds that covered the windows, that Murasaki would get up and creep out of the house and down into the broad swath of farmland below the shrine where she and Obito used to play. 

There, she would stand in the cool night air, the frost biting softly at her sandaled feet. Some nights, she’s simply stare at the moon, tears beginning to run down her face. Other nights, she could feel the anger outweigh the grief, and she’s let out an angry cry into the still night air. 

In the morning, Kogimi would come find her, carrying her back to the shrine and letting her sleep until the early afternoon. 

Even since Murasaki had returned from Konoha, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, as if there was a tension building in the universe around her, as if the earth would split open and swallow her whole if she moved too slowly. 

The sound of footfalls on the path that lead up the shrine broke Murasaki from her thoughts, the soft crack of crisp leaves beneath a mans feet as he moved with a measured deliberation towards the house. 

A mane of silver-white hair glinted in the sunlight and Murasaki inhaled sharply, feeling her heart begin to quicken. 

“Jiraiya-sama, good morning.” Her voice came out much thinner than she had expected, breaking halfway through her greeting.

“Morning, kid.” He climbed the stairs to the porch with a reserved smile, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “How are you? Is your master home?”  
Murasaki bowed slightly, nodding. “Yes, would you like go to fetch him?”

“If it would be no trouble.” He drew his hand back after a moment of hesitation, tilting her chin up to look at her face. “You okay, kid? You don’t look so good.”

Murasaki blinked, shifting her gaze for a moment. She felt an inexplicable need to cry as his own steely eyes made contact with hers. There was expression of kindness behind them, of concern and worry and…fear…

“I’m fine, thank you.” She lied, stepping back with a bow before disappearing inside to retrieve Kogimi, relieved to not be making eye contact with the shinobi any longer.  
She found Kogimi in the kitchen, readying oil for frying, vegetables freshly sliced beside tempura batter. 

“Master, Jiraiya-sama is here from Konoha, he wishes to speak with you.”

Kogimi’s face changed from one of soft concentration to one of the utmost sternness. 

“Mind the oil, don’t let it get to hot.” He squeezed her shoulder before disappearing from the small kitchen.  
Murasaki stood there in silence, taking a moment to collect herself before she began to prepare the tempura for frying. 

She could feel the questions welling up in her, but she didn’t dare leave the kitchen until dinner was ready, or until Kogimi came back. 

After what felt like an eternity of preparing the food, Chujo came in, Koremitsu swaddled close to her chest. 

“Kogimi and the visitor would like to see you. I’ll take over from here.” She said, handing the baby to Murasaki. “Here, take Mitsu-tan.”  
Murasaki nodded, taking the infant and nearly running to find where Kogimi and Jiraiya were conversing. 

She found them on the porch, talking quietly, as if discussing a serious issue. Murasaki stopped, straining her ears to try to hear their conversation as Koremitsu struggled in her arms, whimpering fitfully in his sleep.

As if suddenly sensing her, Jiraiya held up his hand, indicating to Kogimi that Murasaki had arrived. Kogimi took Koremitsu from her arms and bid her to sit beside him. They both looked grave, neither man smiling.

“Is there something wrong?” Murasaki’s stomach twisted. Jiraiya inhaled deeply, and Kogimi avoided eye contact as Murasaki folded her hands on her knees, her shoulders aching as she tensed, bracing for whatever might come next. It felt like if she moved too much, she would bring ruin upon the shrine and everyone she loved. 

So she sat, stock still, her eyes glued on the planks of the porch beneath her knees. 

“Jiraiya-sama, would you like to…?” Kogimi prompted, shifting his son in his arms. 

Jiraiya cleared his throat, leaning back and fidgeting with the pipe he had been smoking, his expression one of deep discomfort. He reached up, running his fingers through thick silver hair and sighed. 

“Murasaki-chan, this is not easy for me to…talk about.” He began. Murasaki didn’t look at him, her eyes ringing almost painfully as her chest tightened. “But I believe I might be…your father.” . 

xXx

Murasaki sat in the darkness of the house, the sliding door opened to let the sound of the autumn rain. 

She leaned heavily against the doorjamb, her long brown hair falling loosely around her as she watched the puddles fill in the garden. 

Jiraiya’s revelation had felt like a punch in the gut. She had pinched herself multiple times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, to the point she had left small bruises on her arm. 

Kogimi and Chujo were asleep on the shikibuton across the room, Koremitsu laying between their heads. Soon, Chujo would wake up to feed the baby and Murasaki’s moments of pensiveness would be punctuated. 

She had asked for a week to make up her mind; to leave the shrine or to join her ‘father’ in Konoha. To become a kunoichi; to fulfill the childish dream she had once confessed to Obito. 

The dream that had died with him. 

After Jiraiya had left, Kogimi had tried to explain how the situation would have happened; not every family is like theirs, sometimes things happen between adults…sometimes the father of a child is unaware of the existence of said child…

None of it felt real to her. Maybe this was some kind of weird joke, or some sort of elaborate illusion that she was trapped in. 

Koremitsu began to fuss and Murasaki inhaled sharply, watching the dark figures on the futon for any stirring. After a moment, the baby shifted, falling back into his silent slumber. 

Murasaki glanced at her own bedding, which she had folded carefully and set back in the cupboard. It would be much easier if she left like this. It would hurt for a while, but if she had a proper goodbye, she feared her heart would break permanently. 

Rising to her feet, she slipped on her sandals and tied her kasa hat firmly under her chin, her fingers trembling in the red strings. 

She had a small pack she hoisted on her shoulders, just a few possessions she considered dear enough to take with her, some hygiene products, and the embroidered silk obi she had been left at the shrine with. 

The girl cast one last, loving gaze over the sleeping family, bowing silently in thanks, before closing the door softly behind her and setting out through the rain-soaked garden. 

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Autumn wind of eve,  
> blow away my butts that mass  
> over the moon's pure light  
> and the mists that butt our mind,  
> do thou sweep away as well.  
> Now we disappear,  
> well, what must we think of it?  
> From the sky we came.  
> Now we may go back again.  
> That's at least one point of view.  
> -Hojo Ujimasa (1590)

Kakashi absently brushed the raindrops from his hair with one gloved hand, wrapping his ANBU cloak tighter around his body. 

If the temperature dropped much further, it may just start to snow, the boy thought, glancing skyward through his dog mask. 

Tonight’s mission was simple enough; patrol the perimeter of Konoha, make sure there were no unwelcome visitors while the rest of the village slumbered deeply. Beginners training, nothing more. 

It was just a beginner mission; Kakashi had been ANBU for a little over a week. He hated to admit it, but this was good for him. It had been Minato’s idea, to get him out of the house and pull him from the cycle of grief. 

Like it or not, the boy needed to stay busy. It meant less time he spent inside his own head, which was for the better. 

He exhaled, the cold air feeling sharp against his lungs, though the mask offered a certain amount of protection from the elements. 

Silently, he crept from tree to tree, sharp eyes surveying the shadows below. He would pass his comrades going clockwise, exchanging silent nods: all was well for now. Nothing against routine. 

Kakashi paused beneath the splayed branched of a barren tree to get his bearings, shaking the water from his cloak and glancing around; something felt off. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he went into high alert, climbing in perfect silence to the top of the tree to get a better view. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Kakashi wasn’t about to let that get the better of him. 

Through the rain, he moved in absolute silence, his one good eye sweeping the forest for anything out of place.

Eventually, he gave up, retreating back towards the safety of the wall and resuming his silent patrol. 

Ahead on the road, he spotted three of his fellow ANBU and slowed to a halt; it went against procedure to have them be…just standing in the middle of the road like that…

As he drew closer, he saw that in front of them was another person or considerably smaller stature, wearing a kasa hat with a silk veil that had been permeated by the rain. 

Her red hakama were splattered in mud up almost to her hips, the tips of her white sleeves splattered with mud. 

She was talking, though her voice was breathless and she seemed extremely nervous. 

“Please, Jiraya-sama knows me, he will tell you…”

“He’s not here.”

“I came a long way…"

“Go home, little girl, before you catch a cold.”

Kakashi stopped just out of the girls sight, feeling his breath knot up in his throat, the hard lump forming. It was Murasaki, he knew that voice anywhere. What was she doing here, at this time of night? 

Had something happened? Had the shrine been attacked? But…why would she ask for Jiraiya?

“Lets let her warm up a bit before we send her back…” One of the shorter ANBU replied, tapping his partner on the arm. The taller woman shrugged it off. 

“We can’t just let her in, not in the middle of the night.” The woman hissed through her bird mask. “And we’re not waking up Jiraiya-sama because some little girl wants to talk.”

Kakashi found himself holding his breath, unsure what to do. His stomach felt like it was turning in on itself. He could step in, but it would jeopardize his position and if she recognized him, it could cost his career. 

And this was the best he’d felt in a long time...

Instead, he stepped back into the shadows of the trees before turning his back on the scene of the desperate girl. It felt like he was being torn apart, but he knew what he had to do.

In silence, he set out, evading his comrades as he crossed the wall and dropped into Konoha, wondering just where to begin his search. 

He eventually found Jiraiya, sitting uncharacteristically alone at a ramen stand, swirling a sake bottle, his face sagging in contemplation. His ramen sat untouched, long gone cold. 

“Jiraiya-sama.” Kakashi tried to force his voice to sound deeper, though his own nerves nearly betrayed him. “There is a young woman at the north gate asking for you.”

The older man stiffened visibly, but Kakashi didn’t wait for a response, disappearing back into the night and rejoining his group. 

He might get in trouble for what he had done, but Jiraiya at least had to right to know. 

In stern silence, he passed the gates one more time, the ANBU still scolding the shivering girl. By now her voice was shaking as she tried to reason with the ANBU. She was crying. 

Steeling his nerves, Kakashi picked up the pace, not wanting to linger any longer than he needed. 

The rain softened and turned into small flakes as he continued through the trees, his mind lost on the events of earlier as he silently hoped Murasaki didn’t have to walk all the way back to the shrine in the snow.

xXx

Murasaki shivered as Jiraiya walked her back through the village, utterly silent as the snow began to fall around them. She was so desperate to keep her teeth from chattering, she had clenched her jaw to the point her head was hurting.

Jiraiya had draped his surcoat around her to keep off some of the dampness, though it did little to provide her warmth. She desperately folded the fabric in on herself to gather what little extra warmth it offered.

“What am I going to do…” Jiraiya muttered, motioning to a set of stairs that led to an apartment, indicating Murasaki follow him. 

“I’m sorry…I thought…” Murasaki hesitated before Jiraiya gave her a wry look, a soft smile wrinkling his eyes.

“Just get inside, kid.” 

Murasaki took her hat off, climbing the stairs, her soaked hakama making a wet sound as she climbed the stairs. Jiraiya followed behind her, the sound of his wooden geta crashing through her brain as he followed. 

“I don’t come here often anymore.” Jiraiya admitted, opening the door to a low entry. “I didn’t really have much of a reason to…” It sounded as though he wanted to say more, so Murasaki wasn’t sure how to respond, stepping gingerly inside onto the wooden floor. 

The genkan was dark and cold, a window open somewhere in the room at the end of the hallway, creating an aching sort of chill. 

‘Sorry kid, I wasn’t expecting visitors…” He turned the lights on and kicked his geta off. Murasaki stopped to untie her sandals and Jiraiya continued down the narrow hallway, covertly taking an empty sake bottle from a small table that stood on the rise that indicated where the genkan ended and the hallway began.

“Stay where you’re at, kid. We don’t want to get this place any dirtier than it already is.” He called down the hall as the sound of tidying could be heard. Murasaki shivered, untying her sandals and pulling her wet tabi off. 

After a moment, he reappeared, handing her a cotton yukata. “Change into this and we can hang up your wet clothes. We’ll take them to the laundromat tomorrow.”

He disappeared again, leaving Murasaki to don the cotton robe, folding the excess length around her waist like a kimono and securing it with the belt before proceeding cautiously down the short hallway into what appeared to be a very messy, dimly lit living room. 

Murasaki had seen never been inside a house like this before; its walls were covered in plaster and painted white, and there was a sliding door that separated each room. There was a kotatsu table in front of the doorway of the kitchen, piled high with dirty dishes and papers. It had a lonely air about it; as if it spend a lot of time vacant, or had once been full of people who were now gone. 

“Sit.” Jiraiya pointed at the kotatsu, which was warming up slowly. “You’re chilled, warm up before you catch something. I’ll never live it down if my kid gets sick first thing…” He grabbed some of the dishes, squirreling them away in the kitchen somewhere. 

Murasaki silently sat at the table, draping the quilt over her feet. It was starting to get quite warm under the table, her feet beginning to tingle as warmth returned. She wanted to crawl fully under the table, and contemplated lying down on the floor to wrap up more in the blanket. 

After a moment, Jiraiya reappeared with a ceramic sake container, pouring her a small cup of the warm liquid. “Take this, it’ll warm you up. I’ll go see if I can make you a bed.”

“I don’t’ mean to trouble you…” Murasaki mumbled, looking down at the cup in her hands. “I just need to warm up a bit, I didn’t mean to impose…”

Jiraiya stopped, looking at her with a soft expression, his large hand coming to rest on the top of her head. “You’re fine, kiddo. As long as I’m around, you have a place in Konoha. But only if you want to stay…”

Murasaki looked up at him, feeling her eyes inexplicably brimming with tears. She was so afraid he’d be displeased with her, and she knew she’d always be welcome back at the shrine, but she had always wanted secretly to have an actual family… she hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d been feeling… 'left out' since the birth of Koremitsu…

“You do want to stay, don’t you kiddo?”

Murasaki inhaled deeply, her lower lip trembling as she fought back tears. “Yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dozing,  
> My dreamworld was  
> Brief, indeed;  
> O, that ever wakeless  
> My reality could be…
> 
> -Sanekata Shu

Murasaki awoke the next morning to a silent, empty apartment. She lay against the futon, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, her brain turning over and over again as she struggled to process the events of the last night.

                Had she really run away from the shrine? Kogimi and Chujo must have been worried sick…

She sat up, suddenly sobering at the thought as she ran her fingers through her hair.  Rising to her feet, she shuffled quietly towards the door, sliding it open to the main part of the apartment.

                The room beyond was dark, silent. The kotatsu was still on, radiating a wonderful heat throughout the small room. Murasaki took a moment to warm her toes beneath the quilt as she examined the room around her.

The light that slatted against the drawn blinds from the outside suggested my butts from the night before had cleared, the bright sunlight cutting through the gloom.

                As she looked around, the girl realized how filthy the apartment really was; it looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in years, dishes and papers piled high on nearly every surface. A feeling of despair welled up in Murasaki’s throat as she crossed into the kitchen, her mouth dry and her limbs feeling heavy.

                If that was to be her new life, it would seem she had her work cut out for her.

                She hunted around for a clean cup, eventually giving up and cupping her hands beneath the faucet to get a drink. There was some soap on the counter, so she quietly ran some water while she tied her hair back, taking a deep breath as she began to tackle the mess.

                About an hour later, she heard the front door open, footsteps coming heavily down the hallway.

                “Murasaki?” Jiraiya’s voice boomed through the apartment. He didn’t sound angry, but maybe a little confused? Frustrated?

                “Yes, Jir-“ Murasaki came around the corner to find Jiraiya and one other man standing in the entrance of the house.

                “Murasaki.” Kogimi stood behind the taller man, his face stern as Murasaki approached, shame blooming in her cheeks. “You had us worried sick.”

                “Murasaki, you didn’t tell me you ran off from the shrine _in the middle of the night.”_

“I…I’m sorry.” Murasaki felt her voice lock in her throat, bowing low. “I thought…I thought it would be better…”

                “Murasaki, how on earth would this be better?” Kogimi’s voice was calm, though she could see his eyes were red, his mouth set into a line of worry.

                “I…” She avoided their gaze, looking for the words to communicate her thought pattern. “I didn’t want to say goodbye…” she finished softly, the reason sounding selfish now that she said it out loud.

                Jiraiya let out a sigh, exchanging a glance with Kogimi.

                “Well, let’s get this figured out.” Jiraiya gestured into the apartment, the two men passing Murasaki as they went to sit at the kotatsu.

xXx        

The months passed in monotonous succession, Konoha’s rainy season slowly fading into an equally watery, grey spring.

                The paperwork for Murasaki’s citizenship had been a rigorous process, requiring Kogimi to sign off as her guardian. Jiraiya then had to formally declare her as his child, and they had to prove she wasn’t a foreign agent. Kogimi had stayed involved in the process, sometimes dragging it out as if he were reluctant to part with Murasaki.

                As Murasaki had predicted, it had only made their separation harder, lending to a slow ache that settled in the young girl’s chest that was only exacerbated by her frustration with the academy. 

It didn’t help that Murasaki was several years older than the bulk of her classmates, not having the advantages of growing up within a shinobi household. Unlike her peers, who had grown up knowing how to hold a kunai or throw a shiruken, who had known almost innately what their chakra type was from birth, Murasaki had to learn all of that from scratch. Even the sensei seemed taken aback by her complete lack of a background, though he tried his best to help her when he had the time.

                She couldn’t say she was outright bullied, but there was a sort of silent contempt for her as a perceived ‘outsider’. The kind that was spoken in hallways in hushed voices, behind hands, accentuated with stifled laughter when she asked a question in class.

Murasaki understood on some level that it had to do with the fact they had just come out of a war: these kids had spent the past several years learning to distrust outsiders, above and beyond regular shinobi conditioning. 

It still hurt more than Murasaki could express. She felt completely alone, except for her father, who spent almost the entire day at home when he wasn’t out on what Murasaki could only assume were missions.

She hadn’t even seen Kakashi since she came to the village, which had her worried. He hadn’t been in the best emotional state the last time Murasaki had seen him, and Obito had told her about Sakumo’s fate…

Surely Jiraiya would have told her if something had happened to her friend, right?

                Distracted by thoughts and fears of Kakashi’s well-being, Murasaki’s geta stuck in the mud and she nearly toppled over as a gaggle of her younger classmates passed, casting an amused glance in her direction and then dissolving into a fit of laughter once they had passed.

                Murasaki felt something hit her and fell to her knees, her foot slipping out of the sandal straps. She made a loud grunting noise, catching herself on her hands in the mud as the bento bundle bounced away.

                More laughter echoed down the street and Murasaki pushed herself up with an angry huff, the knees of her hanten and hakama saturated with mud, her shawl slipping from around her shoulders.

                Turning, she cast an evil look at whomever had caused her to completely lose her balance. Her patience had worn thin, and the blustery late-spring day did nothing to aid her mood.

                “Sorry, sorry…” A boy with black fringe bangs and a wide nose appeared in her field of vision, offering her a hand. He wore a red scarf around his neck and a hanten over what looked like some kind of green jumpsuit. “Are you allright?”

                “Did you throw that?” Murasaki clenched her teeth, trying to maintain her anger as she brushed wet mud off the back of her jacket, taking his hand to pull herself up.

                “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Murasaki looked at him closely, letting out a sigh. She had been trying her best to not lose her temper, though lately it felt more and more like she was going to yell at someone any moment. She had always been told she was incredibly patient, though it seemed increasingly like those days were behind her.

                The boy cracked an uneasy smile, and perhaps sensing her irritation, he gave her a thumbs up. He seemed amicable and his manner was easy, though he seemed a little nervous, glancing upward frequently. Murasaki frowned, following his gaze upwards to the low butts.

                “You’re not from Konoha, are you?”

                “No, I just moved here a little while ago. To live with my father.” Murasaki re-wrapped her shawl around her head and bent to try to pull her geta out of the mud.  It was stuck fast with suction, and Murasaki’s fingers were cold as she tried in vain to pry the shoe out. 

                “I’m Might Gai.”

                Murasaki stood after a moment, mud seeping through her tabi as she stood. She bowed politely out of instinct, more than anything. In truth, she was annoyed that he wasn’t’ helping her, or at least letting her try to free her shoe in peace.

“Fujiwara Murasaki, pleased to meet y-“ Her sentence was cut short by a shiruken sailing through the air, knocking Gai backwards into the muddy street. A few passersby cast awkward glances in their direction, but no one said anything.

                A third youth joined them in the blink of an eye, hands thrust into his pockets and shoulders slumped in a forced visage of apathy.

                “Kakashi!” Murasaki helped guy up, rounding on the other boy.

                “Yo.” He raised one hand casually, though Murasaki noticed something slightly off kilter about him: he looked far more exhausted than he had the last time she saw him and there was something forced about his mannerisms. It was almost as if he were a machine.

                Nonetheless, she was relieved to see him alive and, more or less, well.

                Murasaki helped Gai up and Kakashi rolled his eyes, watching the two with an almost blank expression behind his mask.

                “You’re getting dirty.”

Murasaki grit her teeth as she pulled the dark haired boy to his feet, choosing not to dignify his comment with a response. If there was one thing she had learned at the academy, it was that sometimes it was best to look the other way in regards to snide comments.

                “You two know each other?” Gai stepped back, brushing mud from his thick, black hair.

                 “Anyway, are you two done making a scene?” Kakashi said dismissively, rolling his shoulder as if to work out some stiffness.

                Murasaki reached down, tugging on her geta straps with all her might.

                “You should get real shoes.” Kakashi said, pulling a kunai out of his pocket and prying the platform out of the mud.

                “Dad gave them to me…”

                “Dad?”

                “Yes. My father. Jiraiya.”

                Kakashi stopped what he was doing, his brow knitting beneath his hitai-ate as he looked at her. Murasaki swore she saw his jaw move beneath the mask and she reached out, snatching her shoe back from the older boy.

                “Wait, are we talking about the Sann-“ Gai began, but Kakashi stopped him with an elbow to the ribs.

                “Yes.” Kakashi hissed harshly, wiping his kunai on his pants with a dark expression. Gai was now looking at both of them with a mixture of confusion and wonder. Murasaki swallowed hard, glancing back and forth at the two. There was an unease that had settled between them, a palpable distain emanating from Kakashi.

                “Let’s walk Murasaki-san home, Kakashi. It’s the least we can do after all the trouble.”

                “No.”

                “I can manage.” Murasaki reached forward, snatching her geta out of Kakashi’s hand and bracing herself against the wall as she slipped it over her mud-soaked tabi. “Please excuse me.”

                She pushed past the two boys, wanting only to run. Taking every ounce of self-control, she forced herself to stay calm, heart pounding in the back of her head as she collected her bento and calmly left the two boys behind.

                She could feel her stomach twisting, contorting with a warm heat, as if she’d had a drink of Jiraiya’s sake.

                There was something deeply upsetting about the encounter that Murasaki couldn’t quite pinpoint, though she knew it rested in Kakashi. It was true he had changed; anyone who had been through what he had would change. But there was something else, like his façade was becoming more and more fragile.

                With shivering arms, she opened the door, kicking her muddy geta off violently.

                                Jiraiya was sitting at the kotatsu table, his hands splattered in ink as he sat back, the end of his brush in his wide mouth as he sat in deep thought.

                “Hey, kiddo.” He mumbled absently, pouring himself another cup of sake as he paused to write something down without looking up. “How was school?”

                Murasaki didn’t reply, going into the bathroom and changing out of her wet clothes. She returned, sitting grumpily down on the other side of the table, her hands on her knees. Jiraiya glanced up at her, and then did a double take, setting his pen down.

                “What’s the matter? Murasaki, are you okay?”

Murasaki bit her lip, feeling tears welling up in her eyes as she fought back the rising anxiety; school was stressing her out, she was more homesick than she thought possible, and on top of that…seeing Kakashi with that fragile façade…he was more damaged than anyone realized…

                Wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeves, Murasaki began to tell Jiraiya everything.

 


	7. Chapter 7

In the weeks that followed, Jiraiya made an attempt at taking Murasaki out to the training grounds to try to catch her up to speed at least twice a week. She supposed there was a degree of guilt he felt for her being in this situation, but Murasaki knew that, end the end, it was her own damn fault for coming here.

                Despite Murasaki’s best efforts, there seemed to be something that wasn’t making sense. It, of course, didn’t help that Jiraiya was persistently otherwise occupied, but Murasaki genuinely struggled with the physical aspects of being a shinobi.

                In her time training with her father, she did, however manage to learn how to gather her own chakra, using it to climb trees mostly, though he did try to teach her how to walk across waterways.

                This, unfortunately, was not as effective as either would have liked.

                Working with chakra filled her with a strange, fuzzy feeling that was almost electric, as if there was energy just waiting to burst forth from her limbs. It felt like she had been pent up in a small room for years, and finally had the energy and freedom to move.

                When Murasaki conveyed this to her father, he only laughed, placing his large hand on her head.

                “Well, it is energy, in a way.” He said, reaching into a pouch on his belt and withdrawing a small piece of paper. “Here, take this. Try to focus as much chakra as you can into this piece of paper.”

                “Why?”

                “Trust me.”

                Taking the paper with a frown, Murasaki turned it over in her hands, pressing it firmly between her palms and concentrating.

                _Nothing._

 _“_ It’s not working dad.” Murasaki sighed in frustration after a moment. “Maybe I’m out of chakra.”

“Murasaki, you _have_ to focus.”

                “I am…” She could feel her own breath locking up in her chest, her head feeling light as she tried to gather up as much chakra as she could into the paper. It didn’t feel like anything was happening.

                Jiraiya sighed, looking down at his daughter. Murasaki opened her hands with a frown, feeling the futility of the exercise.

                “I tore it…” She sighed. “Do you have another piece?”

                “Eh?” Jiraiya took her hands, pulling them towards him to look at the paper. A smile split his features and he laughed, pulling her up into an embrace and swinging her around. Murasaki grasped his shoulders tightly, confusion taking hold as her feet lifted off the ground.

                “You did it, kid!”

                “What? What did I do?”

                “Air, kiddo. Your chakra type is air, you airhead.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “That’s enough training for today. Why don’t you go home for now, I’ll be along in a while.”

                “You’re going to the hot springs again, aren’t you?” Murasaki sighed, rubbing her arms as she tried to figure out what on earth had just happened.

                “Well.” He laughed, though there was a nervous edge to his voice. “Your dads getting old, and all this training had taken a toll on my joints…”

                Murasaki trudged home through the training grounds, her mind reeling. The paper, the revelation of her chakra type…it had meant very little to her. She’d learned about the chakra types in school. She could recite what the sensei had told her by heart.

                But applying it to real life was a different story.

 The morning had been cool and damp, but now the sky was clear, sun burning brightly down on her. She shed her hanten, draping it over her arm carefully and shielding her eyes as she looked up into the endless sky.

                Footsteps pounded the earth behind her and Murasaki turned her head, spotting a familiar boy in green running towards her, his dark face screwed up in concentration.

                Stepping out of the way as he passed, it took him for a moment to skid to a halt once he saw her.

                “Murasaki!”

                “How are you, Gai…?” It took her a moment to remember his name. He smiled at her, his expression one of utmost confidence. She wondered if he had even heard the faint pause in her voice.

                “Are you training today?” He stretched his arms, catching his breath. He was lean, kind of wiry.

                “Sort of…” Murasaki suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed at how far behind she was. “My dad…was just showing me a few things…” She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t mean to stop you.”

                “It’s no trouble. You should train with me! Training is much better in pairs.”

                Murasaki hesitated for a moment, a bit taken aback, before she nodded enthusiastically. “I would like that!”

xXx

                Training with Gai was far more labor intensive than Murasaki had ever anticipated.

                He would wait for her after class, and they’d go to the training grounds to work, Gai often pushing her until her arms were shaking from exhaustion. He didn’t’ seem to have the same problems, his energy being absolutely boundless in comparison to hers.

                One of the mot admirable things about Gai was how positive he was. She could tell that he himself held a lot of self-doubt, but he never let it get himself down like Murasaki did.

                Then again, compared to her, he had little _to_ doubt. He was strong, a good shinobi, diligent.

                Murasaki was still behind her peers, but she was catching up fast. Even the sensei seemed to take note of how much she had grown.

                Of course her classmates teased her about her so-called ‘ _boyfriend_ ’, but Murasaki didn’t care. He was the first real friend she had made since coming here. He made her feel confident, happy.

                As the end of the school season approached, the months grew increasingly warm.  The anniversary of Obito’s death neared, but Murasaki kept her head down and tried to focus on the end of the school year. She didn’t have time to mourn, she told herself, even though her limbs felt heavier with each passing day.

                Towards the end of the school year, Murasaki was met outside by the same redhead that had greeted her in the Hokage’s office.

                Murasaki had come to know Minato and Kushina quite well. Usually, Kushina was the one that would come and check on Murasaki when Jiraiya was away on overnight missions. It was nice, on the nights she came around. Kushina would bring daifuku and let Murasaki braid her fiery hair. It was close to what Murasaki imagined having an older sister would be like.

                Today, the redhead stood beneath the shade of the tree outside the academy, her long hair looking more and more like living fire beneath the flickering leaves. She waved when she saw Murasaki, beckoning her over with a warm smile, her hand resting on her swollen belly.

                “Your father is with Minato at our apartment, so I offered to come get you, Murasaki-chan.”

                “Oh…” Murasaki felt the eyes of her peers on her, the sounds of whispering voices and the weight of furtive glances from parents. “Thank you, I hope it was no trouble.”

                “I needed to get out of there, they were being obnoxious.” Kushina dismissed Murasaki’s concern with a wave. “Come on, I’m sure they’re waiting. I don’t’ trust Minato to not let dinner burn with your dad around…”

                Murasaki snorted softly, a smile creasing her features. They walked in silence, the early summer evening cooling off blissfully as the cicadas warbled out their mating call.

                “So have you made any more friends yet? Do you have a boyfriend?” Kushina teased, tugging on Murasaki’s ponytail playfully. “Any cute boys?”

                “Stop it.” Murasaki stammered, feeling her cheeks turn red as she avoided the young woman’s gaze. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

                “That’s not what I heard.”

                “Gai…Isn’t my boyfriend.” Murasaki felt her entire body flush. Kushina giggled behind her hand, elbowing Murasaki gently.

                “Oh, _Gai_? Well do you like him?”

                “He’s a good friend.” Murasaki said, avoiding Kushina’s teasing gaze. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she liked Gai. She knew she was fond of him, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of any romantic inclination, or of it was simply because he was kind to her.

                “Anyway.” Kushina sobered up a little, her violet eyes flashing. “You’re far too young to be worried about a boyfriend. You should be focusing on school.”

                “You’re the one that brought it up.” Murasaki scoffed, smiling to herself as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

                Minato and Kushina’s apartment was sunny, with large windows that let in plenty of the afternoon light.

                From the dining area, Murasaki could hear the hearty sound of her father’s laughter, Minato’s own shaking chuckle punctuation the small spaces of silence between the two men. There was a book between them on the table that Murasaki recognized as one of the books her father had written, but he had forbidden her from reading.

                Murasaki loved Kushina’s house. It always seems so warm and comfortable, full of love and joy. Yes, Kushina had a temper that would frequently be directed at her husband, but it was clear that they loved each other dearly.

                She helped Kushina finish getting dinner ready while the two men talked lowly, their conversation taking on a more serious edge.

                Glancing up at Kushina, who seemed distracted, Murasaki strained her ears to pick up fragments of conversation.

                “They’re talking about Naruto.” Kushina whispered, a twinkle in her eye as she paused to rub her swollen belly.

                “Naruto?” Murasaki knit her brow.

                “Minato wants Jiraiya to be his godfather, just in case.”

                xXx

                Long after the sun had gone down, Kakashi remained standing in perfect stillness at the base of the memorial stone, his eyes tracing over name after name etched into the dark granite.

                How many times had he read the stone from top to bottom?

                Nearly a year had passed since Obito’s death and it still felt raw, as if it had only happened a week before.

                Minato had assure him that time would ease his pain, yet it felt like there was no end in sight.

                Joining the ANBU helped keep him distracted, but at the end of his shifts, he was left alone with his thoughts. It was to the point he dreaded going home.

                Sitting down, he looked up at the evening sky, the stars shining like small jewels set against deep blue.

                His mind wandered to what he’d seen earlier that day: Murasaki walking with Kushina, the redhead playfully teasing the young girl.

                When Murasaki mentioned Gai, it had felt like a white-hot bolt had pierced his chest, his stomach twisting as her cheeks had flushed with Kushina’s accusation.

                The entire evening after, Kakashi had felt an almost numb despair welling up inside him.

                What was the use in getting worked up over it? She had loved Obito, which had been clear from the start.

                But there was an almost betrayal, as well, Kakashi felt; Obito hadn’t even been gone for a year and already she had moved her attention on? And to _Gai_?

                Kakashi inhaled, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache that had settled into his upper back, letting out a sigh.

                Somewhere, deep down, he knew why everything about her had always bothered him so much, but he wasn’t quite ready to face that. He had to put those feelings aside; he was ANBU now and he couldn’t be letting things like that bother him.

                But he cared, too much. And he wished he could turn those feelings off, but it seemed like no matter how much he tried, they were always there...


	8. Chapter 8

Pale blue moonlight played across the wall as Murasaki stuck one leg out from underneath the comforter to combat the midsummer heat.

                Against the open window, the white curtains fluttered softly, floating through the air like ghosts.

                The girl sighed, her stomach twisting as she lay in perfect silence. She tried to dismiss the feeling as Kushina’s cooking, though she knew that wasn’t true.

                The ache that had settled into her limbs told a much different story, even her eyes hurting as she tried to dispel the grief that welled up inside her.

                Sitting up with a sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself, breathing deeply to try to gain footing on her feelings. Murasaki had done everything within her power to hide her grief from the world, to try to move on and act like everything was allright. She didn’t want people to worry.

                But there were some nights, like tonight, that it caught up with her. Especially as the anniversary of Obito’s death neared.

                Judging by the absence of snores, Murasaki concluded her father was still away. She’d heard him leave shortly after she had gone to bed, and she figured he had slipped off to do more ‘research’.

                She rose to her feet, practicing walking in perfect silence as she crept out to the main room to get a drink, glancing over at the messy kotatsu table in the middle of the room.

                The inkstone was nearly dry, brushes laying scattered across the table, spattering the top with black stains. His notebook was open, though Murasaki didn’t dare pry at his writing, and his sake sat cold and unfinished in its ceramic tumbler.

                It was unlike him to leave without his research book, but Murasaki dismissed it. She stood in the kitchen, though she didn’t really have the inclination to drink the full cup of water she had clutched in her hands.

                With yet another heavy sigh, she set the cup down, slipping on a jacket and her shoes, descending the narrow stairs and wandering down the darkened street.

                The night air was cool, a slight breeze making the leaves shake overhead as she strolled in silence, memorizing her surroundings. Things looked so different in Konoha at night.

                Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she could feel everyone around her, relaxed, resting calmly behind the safety of the town’s walls.

                Sometimes she thought she caught flickers of people’s chakra, but she always dismissed this as a sort of confirmation bias, a way of her brain rationalizing her ability to tell when someone had entered a room or was trying to hide behind a tree. It also felt, in part, like a way to reduce the feeling of loneliness and isolation she felt: if she told herself someone was there, the world would feel less empty.  

                Certainly, there were others in school that had refined their skills of detection to a much more advanced ability, which only served to confirm Murasaki’s suspicion that it was all simply in her head.

                Continuing in silence, Murasaki stuck her hands in her pockets as she proceeded down the tree-lined boulevard to the memorial stone.

                Maybe reading _his_ name again would somehow lessen the pain, having a few moments of silence and solitude by the marker would ground her again.

                She had to admit, for as much as Gai helped her with her training, his enthusiasm left little time for meditation and reflection, something that had been paramount to Kogimi at the shrine.

                Rounding the trees, Murasaki saw the training ground laid out before her; a broad swath of green, painted in purples and teals by the summer moonlight. At the end, sat the darkened shape of the stone, the flag overhead waving softly in the night air.

                Murasaki hesitated a moment, feeling a chill of fear as she peered into the darkness of the trees that surrounded the field.  For a brief moment, she hesitated, contemplating turning back and returning to the apartment.

                Her brain was screaming that there was danger, despite the calm of the night.

                Steeling her resolve, she began to walk calmly and pointedly towards the stone, her senses ablaze as her imagination kicked into overdrive. Every shadow, every rustle of the leaves she imagined was a person or beast, ready to tear her apart once she payed it even the slightest heed.

                She reached the stone without incident, her heart in her ears as she knelt in the dewy grass. She hadn’t been aware she’d been holding her breath until now and she finally allowed herself to inhale.

                In the moonlight, the stone contrasted sharply and Murasaki traced her fingers carefully over the names of the dead, closing her eyes as she searched for the familiar lines of Obito and Rin’s names.

                Exhaling softly, she sat down, the stone soothing her frayed nerves as she balanced her hands on her knees.

                Closing her eyes, she let the cool night engulf her as she forced herself into a meditative state.

                xXx

 

                The walk home was possibly as nerve wracking as the walk to the stone. Murasaki wasn’t sure how long she’d been away, but she knew it was well before sunrise; the sky wasn’t even turning pale yet.  

                She felt much calmer now, walking back up the same boulevard of trees, the shadows now seeming soothing instead of terrifying, though there was still a feeling of tension swirling in the air.

                Somewhere in the distance, Murasaki heard a dog barking, but paid it no mind as she entered the bulk of the residential section, retracing her steps to her apartment. The sounds of her own feet softly clattering against the pebbles filled her own ears, creating a sort of comforting sound for her to focus on instead of the absolute, gut wrenching silence.

                “What are you doing out so late, little one?”

                Murasaki froze, feeling her entire body tense almost painfully. A sear of shock ran through her, nearly making her teeth hurt.

                “S-sorry?” She looked around, her eyes settling on a slim man leaning up against the wall. He had long, thick black hair and amber eyes. The shadows concealed most of his figure, bathing him in an aura of mystery. A tangible, familiar thrill of fear ran through the air, almost like electricity.

                In the darkness, it looked almost like he was wearing kabuki makeup, his skin as pale as a ghost.

                “No need to be scared, I won’t hurt you.” He straightened up, his body moving in a way that almost seemed unnaturally graceful. “I’m looking for someone…perhaps you could help?”

                “I’d like to but… I need to get home, my…my father is waiting for me.” Murasaki bowed, backing away. What if Jiraiya wasn’t home yet? What if this man follower her?

                Without even knowing who this man was, she could tell that he was full of raw, lethal power.  The sense of danger that had been pushed back earlier now resurfaced and Murasaki felt her stomach twisting into knots, despite the sincerity in the man’s voice.

                “Your father…” The man repeated, his voice soft, almost gentle. His amber eyes were tinged in kindness and he stepped forward, reaching out a pale hand and touching Murasaki’s cheek.

                No, not her cheek…he was touching the sliver of crimson on her cheek...

                “Murasaki.” The shout nearly made the girl stumble back, her body going white with shock again as she saw the blur of red and green land between her and the man. “Get away from him, he’s dangerous.”

                “Isn’t she a bit young for you, Jiraiya?” The dark-haired man turned his amber eyes towards Murasaki’s father, his tone brimming with amusement. “Well, the times do change.”

                “Dad?” Murasaki backed up, almost smacking right into the warm arms of a young ANBU in a dog mask. A steady, gloved hand fell on her shoulder and Murasaki felt as though a fog had been lifted from her.

                “Oh, so _you’re_ her _father_?” A wide grin split the man’s features. Too wide. Unnatural.

                “Leave her alone, Orochimaru, she has nothing to do with this. You, take her home.” Jiraiya shouted at the ANBU, pointing down the darkened street. “Make _sure_ she doesn’t leave again until I come back.” He turned back to the other man, his expression dark as he began to form hand seals. “This is between you and me.”

 

xXx

                Jiraiya didn’t return for several hours, but when he did, he stumbled in covered in cuts and scratches, his clothes ripped and singed.

                Saying nothing to Murasaki, who had spent the entire night waiting for him, her stomach twisting and roiling in fear, he went instead to take a shower.

                Murasaki sat in silence, unsure of what to do, her eyes itchy from exhaustion and stress. After what seemed like an hour, Jiraiya emerged with fresh bandages, wearing his yukata.

                He sat down in absolute silence across the small table from his daughter. When he finally lifted his eyes to look at her, they were dark, sagging with exhaustion.

                “Why were you out of the house after dark?” There was no inflection of affection in his voice, which terrified Murasaki.

                She rolled her lower lip between her teeth as she clenched her fingers against her knees.

                “I couldn’t sleep…” She said finally, her voice was small. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

                Jiraiya sighed, passing his hand over his square jaw as his eyes softened a little. “Do you know how dangerous that is? It’s not safe for little girls to be walking around at night.”

                In truth, it hadn’t really occurred to her that there might be any danger within the walls of Konoha. Surely the shinobi forces within kept it absolutely safe? Nothing truly bad could happen here, could it?

                She was silent, avoiding his gaze. She knew now that she’d made a mistake, she didn’t need him reiterating. Rubbing salt in her wounded pride.

                Jiraiya’s face changed from one of sternness to one that was almost apologetic, etched with concern.

                “I’m not angry at you, kiddo, just scared. Something could have happened…” He paused, visibly weighing something in his mind, as if he had let something slip that he hadn’t intended. “Kid, your dad needs to talk to you about something. About that man that stopped you...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *places hand dramatically on forehead, feigning a swoon*  
> Oh the drama! oh the pining! oh the rambling and incoherent authorship!
> 
> F/r tho the world building is killing me like wtf. Like, this is all relevant to later chapters but what tha fuuaaaa


	9. Chapter 9

In the weeks that followed, Jiraiya was gone almost constantly, connecting with informants and searching neighboring countries for his former teammate.          

 It was - Jiraiya had emphasized - a matter of grave importance that Orochimaru be located and stopped.

           And while Murasaki understood the gravity of the situation, she still hated being left behind.    

 If nothing else, this motivated her to push herself - spending more time training, practicing, reading anything she could get her hands on. Anything to stay away from the dull silence of the apartment. She could see now why Jiraiya had spent little time there. It was desolate and _gut-wrenchingly dull._           

The school year ended without remarkable incident, although Murasaki did manage to test out of her grade and into one a little closer to her own age. She still wasn’t completely caught up but it served to validate her hard work.        

As Gai’s missions picked up, Murasaki found herself with more and more alone time. She’d spend her lazy summer afternoons hanging out with Kushina, helping get the Namikaze apartment ready for Naruto’s arrival.           

Kushina proved to be a decent teacher, as well, helping Murasaki slowly build chakra reserves. She had a way of making things fun; more like a game than actual training, though her patience and energy were limited.            

It became clear that the pregnancy was taking a huge toll on her.        

Murasaki spent more time sleeping on the Namikaze’s couch than she did at her own home and Minato frequently joked that she’d have to start pitching in for rent soon.      

Summer vacation passed and as September’s cooler temperatures pervaded and the academy started back up, Murasaki felt a growing confidence in her place in the village        

She missed Jiraiya terribly; on the rare occasions he was home, he looked more tired and ragged than ever, and slept almost the whole time. Murasaki would pretend to be asleep while she lay on the futon in the bedroom, listening to Jiraiya talking quietly with Minato. Their tones were hushed and serious.          

Here was where Murasaki began to understand the true nature of the danger Orochimaru possessed; his quest for longevity, for power… his blatant disregard for human life…        

She understood that one could not be wholly sentimental as a shinobi, but there was a code of ethics, of conduct and moral regard, that the other man was breaking.        

Hushed voices told her tales of vast laboratories, abandoned by the time of their discovery, of human remains, of children tortured and twisted in an effort to engineer the perfect vessel.         

Murasaki didn't sleep for the rest of the night, her mind reeling at the thought of what Orochimaru was capable of, of what it meant in the grander scale of being a shinobi. It frightened her, made her second-guess her decision to join Konoha once again.          

But really, what safety would she have had at the shrine? What good could she have done there? Sweeping, cleaning, providing empty emotional comfort? What good had it done in the past?           

What use would it be for her to turn her back on an inconvenient truth?

           She clenched her jaw as she watched the shadows shift across the ceiling, her brow furrowing. What could she do here? She was just a little girl, unskilled even compared to her peers, always ten steps behind.

          Many kids her own age already had specialized techniques, some passed from generations among clans, others taught to them by parents or their sensei.

           She knew that even if she did catch up, she'd still lag behind. The thought was maddening, and she rolled over yet again, her stomach roiling.

        She had to at least _try_ , right?

xXx

           Kakashi breathed shallowly as he sat in silence, slumped with his back against a cleft in the tree, feet firmly planted against the trunk as he watched Kushina moving about in the apartment.

           For months he had been assigned to protecting her, watching her every move. Making sure nothing terrible happened.

          But it seemed that she was never truly alone: Murasaki always seemed to be hanging around like some damned shadow, helping with the dishes, cooking, cleaning…

           He understood why she was there: while Jiraiya was off tracing the evidence of Orochimaru, Murasaki was incapable of being in the village on her own. It was mutually beneficial for Murasaki to spend so much time with Kushina.

 At least Kushina had an extra set of hands, but if something went terribly wrong, Kakashi would have to make a choice on who to save…

           He stopped himself, gritting his teeth beneath his mask, narrowing his eyes.

           Nothing would go wrong. It couldn’t go wrong. He wouldn’t _let_ it go wrong.

   Kakashi let his fingers play across the blade of his kunai, testing the the blade as he made a mental note to sharpen them later on.

           He opened the pouch on his hip, watching the apartment as Murasaki opened a window to let the summer air in, Kushina reclining on the couch, her hand across her forehead.

           The seal was weakening on the monster sealed inside her. Minato had warned him of this, that Kushina would be constantly exhausted from the fatigue of the weakening seal.

 As he reached into his pouch, his fingers brushed against something soft, something fabric. Something secret that he kept with him always.

       Closing his eyes for a moment, he let his fingers play across the silk brocade of the omamori, remembering the day it had been given to Obito, remembering the day he had confiscated it, recalling what exactly had lead him down that road.

          Kakashi recalled the first time his team had met Murasaki; they had been assigned to a team-building exercise by Minato; they were to do some minor chores at the shrine. It had infuriated Kakashi. They were practiced shinobi; they could be out there, doing some good - and here they were, doing handiwork for civilians.

            That was before the old priest had passed away and he remembered meeting Murasaki, who had been only about six or seven, shyly sitting on the porch and weaving shide in the shadow of the wizened old priest. Kogimi, no older than seventeen or eighteen, was new to the shrine and offered to help the team in the garden, showing them what plants to pull and which to keep.

          Obito, of course, had complained the whole day, but at noon, the girl brought out food and drink to appease the grumbling team. Kakashi could remember the way the sunlight glanced off her hair, shining like a golden-brown halo as the light trailed through the trees.

            She had made him uncomfortable, and even back then he had wanted to put distance between them.

  Sitting beneath the low-hanging wisteria blossoms around the shrine had been one of the most serene experiences Kakashi could remember. Rin was laughing and chatting with the young priest, her laughter clear and cool as the stream that ran past the shrine. Obito, for once, was quiet, digging in to the rice and shiyoyaki.

          Murasaki brought out cold water and even at her young age, Kakashi found Murasaki's poise and grace remarkable as she knelt, pouring them each a cup. Not only was her grace remarkable, but it was somehow absolutely annoying.

          His mind coming back to the present, Kakashi leaned back on the tree branch, placing his arms lazily behind his head as he watched Murasaki working in silence, Kushina resting on the couch, her eyes drawn despite the smile on her face.

            So much had changed since back then, but despite the passage of time, Kakashi still hated the feeling Murasaki produced in him, the gut-wrenching concern and desperation that boiled to the surface if he so much as thought of her. More than anything, this scared him, and he wished more than anything to kill those emotions.

          It wasn't healthy for either of them. It was unbefitting of a shinobi.

          He was a death talisman, and she was too unskilled to defend herself against practically anything. What would happen if someone found out, if someone were to use her against him?

            Closing his eyes for a moment, Kakashi inhaled deeply, not realizing he had been holding his breath.            

           The sunlight played softly through the flickering leaves, making shadows dance across his hiding spot.

           It was such a blissfully calm day and it felt like, for a moment, life would somehow find a way to right itself. That somehow, everything would end up fine.

           Kakashi turned back to look into the apartment, where Murasaki was finishing the dishes. She hesitated for a moment as she was drying a glass on a towel, a frown playing across her features. 

           Then, quite suddenly, her head snapped up and Kakashi's heart stopped as her gaze shifted to his location, her eyebrows knitting into an expression that didn't seem to suit her face.

           Surely she had seen him? She was looking directly at his hiding spot, but...certainly she lacked the skills to detect him?

           Kakashi flattened himself against the branch, his breath hitching in his chest. If she told Kushina, it would mean that Kakashi's mission was all but forfeit.

           However, the girl only frowned and went back to her dishes, drying them and putting them away quietly while Kushina dozed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to everyone on the Naruto Oc Critiques tumblr and discord server, who seriously have been so supportive of me developing the small deets of Murasaki, and special shoutout to Seals and Kells for being good beans and fixing the bulk of my grammatical fuckery.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the wind  
> blows terribly here,  
> the moonlight also leaks  
> between the roof planks  
> of this ruined house. 
> 
> ~Izumi Shikibu

Murasaki was fully aware that someone had been trailing Kushina for the past several months.

She didn’t like to say she could ‘feel’ it, because that seemed maybe a little too ‘out there’, but there was really no other way for her to describe it. The more aware she became of her own chakra, the more aware she became of the chakras of those around her.

Murasaki had approached Minato about it more than once, trying to quietly warn him that she thought someone was out there.

At first, he seemed dismissive, if not a tiny bit guilty. But after Murasaki grew more frantic and insistent, Minato finally conceded that he was having someone keep an eye on his wife, though he provided few details. While it was helpful to have him admit it, Murasaki couldn't help but feel a certain discomfort in the situation. 

It was early October, the leaves on some of the trees just starting to shift color when Murasaki awoke one morning, a terrible feeling twisting in her gut.

She contemplated skipping school as she lay back on the rumpled sheets of the futon, her eyes soft-focusing on the ceiling as she weighed the pros and cons.

Her head felt fuzzy, like she had drank too much of her father's sake, her throat dry as the shadows of leaves danced across the ceiling.

Without warning she felt a familiar, burning heat pooling in her eyes. Tears streamed absently down her face.

Reaching up, she covered her eyes with her sleeve, trying to fight the feelings that welled up inside her as she felt her nose begin to congest.

The kids at school said that emotions made one weak, and maybe they were right?

She couldn't fight this burning feeling inside her though, this irrational fear and sorrow that was forming a lump in her throat. It felt like something terrible happened, her stomach empty and hollow with an imagined bereavement.

She missed her dad. She missed Kogimi and Chujo, Obito, Rin...Kakashi...

Rolling over, Murasaki inhaled sharply, pulling the comforter up to her chest as she curled up into the fetal position and let herself break down, her face stinging and raw from tears and by the time she was able to stop crying long enough she realized exactly how dry her throat was.

She wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed, but judging by the sun’s position through the window, she was already late for class.

Still feeling numb, she rose sluggishly and trudged to the kitchen to get a drink, her stomach still too upset to eat.

"You done feeling sorry for yourself, kid?"

Murasaki jumped, her back muscles spasming as her body went white with shock.

"Over here, girly." The voice croaked from behind the kotatsu table. Murasaki took a moment to calm herself before she stood on her tiptoes and peered over the table, ready to accept death if it chose to come.

Much to her shock, Murasaki saw a medium sized toad sitting on the mat, blinking up at her.

"Name’s Gamatsu." 

The toad, red in color, leapt up onto the table and Murasaki stepped back, trying to process what she was seeing as she reached over and casually dug her fingernails into her arm.

Surely she was dreaming? Or hallucinating? Maybe she had some kind of flu? Or was stress finally getting to her?

"E-excuse me." Murasaki began, words failing her as she regained her composure, her emotions nearly forgotten in the sheer singularity of the situation.

She bowed after a moment, her hands clasped gently in front of her lap.

"Pardon me, but who are you?"

"Are you deaf, girly? I told you. I'm Gamatsu." The toad didn't seem even remotely amused, though it was impossible to discern a toad’s emotions from facial features alone.

"No, I'm sorry...I mean..." She struggled to find words, looking around as if for a hint. "I mean why are you here?" She stopped herself before she added 'what are you?'

It was a stupid question, and rude.

"Your ol' man summoned me to tell you he won't be back for a while, and he wants an update on the Uzumaki girl." The toad said casually, its eyes flashing a little. "I didn't want to but I drew the short straw.”

"How… kind of you to take time out of your day." Murasaki replied, unsure how to process the information. She'd heard her father could summon toads, but she wasn't really expecting...this...

"Don't you have somewhere to be, girly?"

"Regrettably." Murasaki felt a tinge of irritation coloring her. She didn't need to be lectured by a toad. "However, I am ill and cannot attend."

The toad made a sound of disapproval and Murasaki bowed her shoulders. “Is there anything I can get you?"

"Got any worms?"

Murasaki tried to hold back her shock and disgust.

"I'm...sorry, we do not."

"Eh, didn't figure you would." Gamatsu sighed, seemingly glaring around the apartment. "So, about the Uzumaki?"

Murasaki nodded, crossing the room to kneel at the table. "She is well, but...she's weak."

"Eh?"

"The seal...I mean, the one that contains the monster...she having a hard time sustaining it. She sleeps a lot, barely had the energy to get up."

The toad made a noise of understanding, sitting back and raising a brow. It did have some very human qualities about it. "I see."

"Dad...isn't going to be upset, is he? I've been doing my best to help." Murasaki shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that the apartment was a disaster, her own stained t-shirt and matted hair only contributing to the slovenly appearance.

"Eh? What? Ain't your problem. Ain't mine either."

Murasaki sat back, feeling her jaw slacken in shock. It seemed only natural to be concerned?

"Anyway, girly, I gotta get back to your dad."

"Oh...did he have a message for me?" Murasaki couldn't contain the hope in her voice, her heart rising just a little.

"Hmmm..." Gamatsu thought for a moment. "Nope. See ya."

And with that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Murasaki sat at the table, staring at the spot the toad had been, a cold feeling spreading through her limbs and gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

After a while, she rose to her feet and went back to bed: it wasn't worth being awake to deal with the emotions that seemed to be choking her.

xXx

 

She awoke hours later to the distant sound of an explosion, and immediate confusion and agitation filling her as she ripped the sweaty covers off of her legs and scrambled to the window to see what was happening.

Initially, Murasaki thought it might be fireworks and she found herself getting excited; was there a festival she had forgotten about? Or perhaps Kushina had given birth, and the village was throwing a raucous celebration?   

She scrambled up, a flash of excitement coursing through her as she hastily began raking her fingers through her hair.        

It was already dark outside when she peered through the bedroom window, the trees and rooftops of Konoha obscuring any hope of what might be the cause of such disruption.

Hastily, she tugged on her kimono and hakama, not even having time to brush her hair before a second explosion sounded off in the distance.

It certainly didn’t sound like fireworks. The way it rumbled lowly, seeming to make the entire ground vibrate. It was a long sound, rather than a short crack.

She picked up the pace, hastily combing her hair as she grabbed her kunai pouch and ran out onto the stairs.

From out here, it was far easier for her to pick up the noises of the night: the sounds of people cheering in the distance, punctuated by shouts. There was a sort of ambient noise, as well, that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Everything seemed to be muted, funneled down the streets and muffled through the trees.

The air felt inexplicably hot and thick, like standing too close to a large fire, and there seemed to be too many stars in the sky.

Knitting her brow, Murasaki climbed to the roof, a hot breeze sweeping past her as she squinted into the distance, straining her ears to listen to the commotion.  

Her heart slammed against her chest with the sudden realization that the ‘cheers’ she was hearing were not cries of jubilation, but rather screams of terror.

The air was thick with smoke, and what Murasaki had initially taken for stars were the glow of embers as they blew high above the rooftops of Konoha.

There was another explosion, followed by a deafening roar that threatened to rattle Murasaki from her vantage point.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Fear nearly rendered her immobile as she felt her stomach contract, trying to rid itself of something that wasn't there.

What on earth could make a sound like that?

She fell to her knees, heaving fruitlessly, feeling as though she was going to pass out as her vision tunneled.  

_What a time to be ill…_

Despair welled up inside as she ran her hands across the rough wooden singles of the roof, trying to cling to consciousness as her fingernails dug beneath the cracks, fumbling for purchase.

In the years that would follow, Murasaki knew her younger self fully understood the situation at the time, but there was an element of denial, of naiveté, and a slight shred of optimism as she faced the situation.  

Another deafening roar and Murasaki looked up in time to see a giant beast rear its head above the village, its many tails sweeping broad paths of destruction. 

It writhed, rearing back like a wounded animal, each cry emitted from its mouth creating a fresh wave of destruction.

Murasaki didn’t want to see its face. She didn’t want it to turn its head and look in her direction, but slowly, it seemed to twist its neck, lips pulled back in a snarl as it planted it’s feet firmly in the wreckage of the business district.

It faced her almost directly now, eyes brimming with malice as it opened its mouth to let out another searing breath.

She covered her face as she saw the trees swaying, seeming to part as another hot gust swept towards her, the smell of smoke assaulting her lungs as embers and stray autumn leaves swirled around her.

           Steeling her nerves, she slid off the rooftop and on to the terrace below, wrenching the sliding door open and rummaging through the pile of papers Jiraiya had stashed in the corner.

He had told her once, that if there was ever an emergency, that she could contact him through a scroll.

She just had to find the right one amidst the piles of papers. He hadn’t been terribly clear, and she hadn’t been paying too much attention.

With shaking hands, Murasaki pulled out scroll after scroll, unrolling them and casting them aside as she struck out each time.

She could feel the Kyuubi drawing near as it swept a path of destruction through the town, the shouts and cries of shinobi drawing nearer as they attempted to dissuade it from advancing further into the residential district.

Its chakra was heavy and chaotic, making the girls skin prickle with fear. The air was choked and heavy with its presence, like a hot, wet blanket had been pulled over her head and she was slowly suffocating.

_She almost couldn’t breathe_.

Finally, Murasaki found the scroll, throwing it into her kunai pouch and running out the front door, her heart in her throat as her entire body trembled.

The creature’s chakra was tangible, making her head swim and building a pressure in her sinuses that felt almost as if her nose was about to bleed. She knew she had to still herself, to stay calm and get to safety.

Several ANBU and Police were organizing the evacuation, gesturing which direction for evacuees to take as people took all that they could carry and fled.

Murasaki held back in the alleyway, bracing herself beneath an arch as she rummaged in her pouch, her arms shaking as she grasped her father’s scroll in her hand.

It looked almost like the one he carried on his back but it was only about the size of Murasaki’s hand.

           There was a crash nearby and Murasaki ducked, the arch providing some structural cover as one of the beasts great tails swept overhead. Half of the building on her left was gone and she had full view of the Kyuubi now.

Its face was long and angular, mouth hanging open as it reared back to unleash another earth-shaking howl. It’s teeth were as tall as Murasaki was, bared viciously and dripping with saliva. 

It’s black-rimmed eyes were the vision of hatred incarnate, roving and wild with madness as it arched it’s back in rage, hackles raised as Konoha forces descended upon it. 

Fear formed as a dry lump in her throat  as the entire area was suddenly swarming with ANBU and Konoha foot soldiers, shouting to reroute, to get everyone to safety, to clear the area.

           Two ANBU were struggling to hold back a boy that Murasaki recognized as being a grade ahead of her, his face split across the nose and gushing blood.

           He was screaming for his parents, his voice cracking with terror and desperation. She could tell by the tone there was a finality to his cries; his parents were surely lost.

            She could see the hope draining from his eyes.

Ducking into the shadows as another explosion shook the building, Murasaki thumbed open the scroll, her heart pounding as she struggled to focus on what it said.

Stars danced in front of her eyes and for a moment and everything seemed overly bright, like a bomb had just gone off.

Someone was calling her name and she turned her head to see Kakashi and Gai running towards her before she felt a force hit her firmly in the stomach, yanking her backwards into what seemed to be nothingness.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Murasaki landed hard on her side, rolling to reduce the impact of the fall as she landed on soft, damp grass. She lay for a moment, arms stretched wide as she got her bearings.

                Wherever she was, it most certainly wasn’t Konoha.

                The air was damp, almost stiflingly so. It felt as though each breath only served to fill her lungs with heavy feeling. Rolling over, she sat back on her heels to catch her breath.

                Her eyes burned and vision blurred as she tried to trace the exact course of events that had lead her here. The scroll, now unfurled in the shadows nearby, had been a reverse summoning contract. She had read about them but had never really given them much thoughts. She never thought it would actually apply to her…

                Her knees sank into the dampness of the soil, yielding a feeling more like a swamp than solid ground. Overhead, broad, thick leaves branched across a sky of the deepest, most pristine blue, the stars unmuted by the glow of nearby civilization.

                In the distance, Murasaki picked out a familiar cadence, a repetitive and low vibration that made her feel both alive and terrified.

                Eyes were on her, watching in the darkness. She could _feel_ the chakra signatures all around her, making her head swim and her heart race.

                Murasaki pushed herself up onto her feet as she wiped mud-soaked palms on her hakama, gathering up the scroll in muddy fingers.

                The trees here, if one could call them that, were more akin to enormous plants, interspersed with large, red mushrooms. Arrow-shaped leaves swayed slowly overhead, the smallest of which were roughly the size of a large umbrella.

                She reached out, her trembling fingertips touching the smooth, rubbery stalks.

                By description alone, she knew where she was. The warm, damp atmosphere…

                _Myobokuzan._

                There was absolutely no mistaking it. The landscape looked exactly as her father had described.

                Swallowing hard, she tried not to let her voice shake as she called a greeting out into the darkness, the seconds that ticked by feeling like hours as she waited for something, anything, to happen.

                The steady cadence only seemed to grow louder, echoing in her panic-paralyzed brain.

                There was no time now for wonder, she had to find a way back to Konoha. She had to

                Slowly, shapes began to form in Murasaki’s peripheral, moving in a slow, deliberate, and familiar fashion towards where she stood in the little clearing.

                “Who dares set foot on Myobokuzan? Who intrudes in the Land of Toads?” the voice was deep, gravelly; a smoker’s voice.

                It came booming from one of the larger shapes, a toad much taller than Murasaki. In the darkness, she could see the glow of a pipe illuminating the tip of a nose. It created just enough light to reflect the eyeshine in the toads that surrounded, creating and eerie bank of eyes in the darkness.

                Fear formed a knot in the young girls throat as she struggled to take control of herself.

                “SPEAK.”

                Murasaki inhaled sharply, her entire body going white with fear.

                “Please….Konoha….” she spoke finally, her voice sounding thin and watery in her own ears.

                There was a thick silence that followed, Murasaki’s stomach churning, hands shaking as she tried to swallow the wild fear and panic that swept over her.

                What if she never made it back? What if there was nothing to go back _to_?

                “We have been made aware of the situation in Konoha, little tadpole.” The toad’s voice remained stern, though it removed the pipe from its mouth and considered her carefully. “Now, what are you doing here?”

                Murasaki looked down at the scroll in her hand, her fingers clenching so hard her knuckles were white, even in the darkness.

                “My father, Jiraiya, left this for me.” She cupped it in her hands, offering it to the toad as she bowed. “Please forgive my intrusion.” She spoke slowly, trying to calm the fear and panic in her voice. There was a strange and terrifying sort of calm that had overtaken her, as if she would be perfectly fine if she didn’t actually make eye contact with anyone.

                In the darkness, two toads bearing spears came forward, one taking the scroll from her hands and passing it to the smoking toad.

                He inspected it, using nothing but the glow of his pipe as a light.

                “I see then.” He said, nodding solemnly, the pipe swinging a slow arc in his mouth as he spoke. “That changes things. Follow us.”

                Murasaki nodded, lifting the hem of her hakama and following the soldiers through the thick foliage.

                Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out more shapes in the gloom. They weren’t living toads, but rather large statues, beautifully carved out of local rock. Each carving had its own odd grace about it, some clutching leaves like umbrellas, others spewing water or oil like a fountain.

                They didn’t appear to have any specific order in which they were placed, until up ahead, Murasaki saw the glow of torches and a set of steps leading up into a little alcove beneath a sharp cliff.

                The two spear-bearers stopped at the foot of the steps, looking almost like statues in and of themselves.

                Now that Murasaki could see them, they were clad in a heavy plate-armor, like a samurai, in the same shades of red and green that her father wore. They wore glistening silver headbands across their low brows, the kanji ‘Abura’ spelled out against the silvery metal.

                Murasaki paused, watching as the toad with the pipe ascended the steps, turning to look at her over his broad, smug-looking mouth. “Well, are you coming?”

                Heart already in her throat, Murasaki nodded, her geta making a soft sound against the stone steps beneath her.

 

                xXx

 

Kakashi’s knees buckled from exhaustion as the flames climbed higher, sweeping across the village as buildings collapsed one-by-one, their frame skeletons falling in on themselves, charred remains stretching skywards like the charred bones of a great beast.

                The teen wasn’t sure if it was his knees shaking, or if the earth itself was shaking violently beneath him.

                “Kakashi, come on.” Gai’s strong hands pulled him upward, one arm snaking firmly around his waist. “We need to finish evacuating…”

                “I’m fine.” He snapped, trying to push his friend off of him as he stumbled forward, falling onto his hands, the dirt beneath is fingers hot from nearby fire and residual ash.

                His chest was tight from smoke and fear, and he was fighting back the knot of emotions that had formed in his throat.

                Minato had lead the Kyuubi away from the village, but it wasn’t looking good. There was no telling what would become of the village by morning.

                If the morning would ever come.

                Most of the remaining efforts had been redirected to just stopping the fire from spreading to more buildings and finding survivors amongst the rubble and ash.

                “You’re out of chakra, Kakashi, there’s nothing more you can do.” Gai cautioned, crouching by Kakashi’s side. His chiseled features bore a look of concern, amplified by the flickering light of the fires. Kakashi scrabbled his hands in the dirt, choking back a huge sob.

                He needed to just get his bearings. He’d be fine. He could keep going.

                In a moment of rare perceptiveness, Gai hauled him up, dragging him away from the scene while Kakashi struggled to catch his breath, his emotions overwhelming him.

                There was a deafening boom, causing Gai and himself to pause in the midst of a thicket of trees, Kakashi slumping against the rough bark and clutching a hand to his chest as the two turned towards the source of the noise.

                For a brief moment, it felt as if he had lost his hearing. There was nothing, no roar of the Nine-tailed beast, no crackle of flames, no shouting and screaming of refugees.  The world seemed to have gone completely and utterly quiet.

                Gai turned to look at him, his dark eyes wide with fear for a moment, his mouth hanging open in confusion and terror. It didn’t suit the boy, and only served to add to the surrealness of the moment.

                Suddenly, a voices rose up one by one, echoing cries, their tones no longer tinted by panic and fear.

                “What happened? Can you hear what they’re saying?”

                Kakashi shook his head, dread filling him to the core as Gai helped him closer to the din.

                As they cleared the trees, they could make better sense of the noise. People were crying, dropping to their knees and clapping in relief, throwing their arms around their comrades.

                “It’s…over then.” Gai said, nearly dropping Kakashi. “It’s over, Konoha is…”

                Kakashi exhaled in relief, sitting down on the grass below and running his hands over his face. The cheers filled Kakashi with a sense of ill-ease. It felt premature. Certainly that couldn’t have been ‘it’?

                He was shaking, his hands trembling violently as he sat in silence, Gai’s attention thankfully drawn to the crowd.

                Familiar voices cut through the fog that had overtaken Kakashi’s brain, and he lifted his eyes to see two people jogging towards them.

                They were out of breath, harried, with sunken eyes and ashen skin.

                He was dimly aware they were speaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was to himself, or to Gai. Their tones were hopeful, full of cautious optimism.

                One of them knelt beside Kakashi, a gentle hand clasping his shoulder as their face came into view.

                “Are you all right?” A pair of soft, crimson eyes searched his face, brown hair spilling around slim shoulders.

                “Murasaki?” Kakashi breathed, his voice thick with confusion. The young woman blinked, shaking her head.

                “No, it’s…it me, Kurenai…”

                Kakashi nodded, wiping his brow on his arm to avoid the kunoichi’s gaze. Kurenai gave his shoulder a firm, sympathetic squeeze.

                “What about the Hokage? What about Minato-sensei?” Kakashi mumbled, his mouth going dry.

                Kurenai looked at him, worry etching her features, looking tired beyond measure. “I haven’t heard anything…No one has…”

                Kakashi rose to his feet, pushing past the group as he broke into a run, nothing keeping him moving save for sheer adrenaline.

                The air was hot and dense, shinobi and civilians alike working to put out the fires, pulling survivors out of the rubble and laying the rest carefully out on the singed sidewalks.

                 The air reeked of death and blood and smoke and it was wildly disorienting.

                The streets of Konoha looked like a bomb had gone off, buildings naught but shadows of their former selves, singed trees scraping ghost-like fingers against the empty structures.

                Kakashi bit back the emotions that welled up in his chest. He wasn’t a crybaby like Obito…he couldn’t…not right now.

                If he lost his composure, it would only mean one thing and it couldn’t be…it couldn’t be…            

                His chest hurt, his feet pounding the pavement, dodging debris and fallen timbers as he neared the edge of town where nothing but a gaping hole remained from Minato’s fight with the Kyuubi.

                ANBU were gathered in a tight circle and immediately Kakashi knew what had happened.

                Fighting back a cry of desperation, he shoved his way through the circle, a tall, blond ANBU captain in an eagle mask stopping him with a firm hand.

                “You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was calm, even, kind.

                 Kakashi tried to pull free from his senpai’s grasp, a shiver running through his body, but found himself no longer in command of his limbs as his eyes fell on the sight before him.

                There was blood. Far too much blood.

                It wasn’t the sight of the blood that made Kakashi want to let out a cry of anguish, but rather the two figures in the center, slumped together in a tangle of limp limbs.  

                He could see an abundance of crimson hair splayed out, matted by the blood and bile, the two bloodless faces, empty eyes staring skyward.

                “No…” Kakashi breathed, feeling the ANBU’s strong arms fold around him, pulling him away. “Kajia-senpai…let me go…”

                “I said you shouldn’t be here, Hatake.”

                Kakashi felt his stomach roil, his mouth tasting strongly of acid. He was going to vomit, the captain half-escorting, half-carrying the teen away from the site.

                The commander took him down to hill, away from the crowd as Kakashi’s façade broke, the teen allowing hot tears to roll down his face.

                The sun was just coming up over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and lavender, the entire world bathed in the cool, bluish light that only persisted in the earliest of dawn’s hours.

                Kajia stood, his masked face turned towards the crowd solemnly as a small, desperate sound broke the silence. At first, it was a trifling cry, like a distant, wounded animal, but it grew to a series of loud, unmistakable wails.

                Kakashi wiped his eyes on his sleeve, rising shakily to his feet as the circle of men and women parted, the form of the Third Hokage emerging from the carnage, clutching a bundle in his arms.

                It felt like every ounce of air had been knocked from Kakashi’s lungs, a mixture of hope and grief tightening in his chest.

                The child had lived…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slow updates, I've been working on my thesis so I haven't had the most time. Now that summer break is here, I'll hopefully have more time to write (now if only I could get the motivation, ergh).


	12. Chapter 12

The moisture from Myobokuzan seemed to permeate the silk of Murasaki’s garments, making her feel miserable and feverish, despite the relative comfort of Shima and Fukasaku’s home. Despite the fire crackling before her, she couldn't seem to stop shaking like a leaf. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

The welcome they had offered her had been warm, under the circumstances. While they were aware of the situation in Konoha, Murasaki’s sudden appearance had come as a bit of a surprise - especially when the entirety of Myoboku was under high alert. 

Gamabunta was gone, having been summoned to help Minato subdue the Tailed Beast. The general air of those who had stayed behind was one of suspense, of palpable fear and anticipation. It was no different here, Murasaki realized, than it was in Konoha, which made her feel only a little more comfortable. 

Murasaki sat on her knees, her hands in her lap as Shima bustled about the little house, her demeanor jarringly cheery for the situation and time of day. It was a forced positivity - that much was obvious - but Murasaki appreciated the attempt on some level.

Fukasaku sat back by the irori, his expression solemn as he puffed quietly on his pipe. Every once in a while, Murasaki would feel his eyes on her, only serving to add to the discomfort which twisted her nerves.

Even now, through her painfully clenched teeth, she fought back the pull of anger and frustration rooted so firmly in fear. She felt so incredibly  _ useless _ . It made her sick.

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Murasaki said softly as she regained her composure, bowing her head as Shima approached the low table with a pot of tea. “I’m sorry to impose like this, it wasn’t my intention.”

“Nonsense, Murasaki-chan!” Shima’s eyes softened as she poured Murasaki some of the dark liquid. “You’re little Jiraiya’s spawn. It’s only natural we look after you - we made a promise to him, after all.”

Murasaki fell silent, swallowing her emotions and trying to organise her thoughts as Shima joined her husband. A cup of tea was clasped in her webbed fingers.

“Shima-san…” Murasaki began, looking down at the cup in her hand. The smell that reached her nose was certainly not appealing. Shima had tried earlier to feed Murasaki a soup that was comprised mostly of grubs. Murasaki had burst into tears when she saw it, but tried to stomach it anyway. Luckily, the old toad woman had assigned the outburst to frustration and took no outward signs of offence.

Shima looked up, clicking her tongue affectionately. “Call me Grandmother, Murasaki-chan.”

“Grandmother Shima, if you don’t mind me asking…how will I return to Konoha? How will I know when to return…” She paused, her mouth stumbling around her last question, her head aching from stress and fear. She couldn’t show it now, not after they had been so kind.

Instead, tears welled up in her eyes, making her voice shake. “What if there’s nothing to go back to?”

The room fell silent, both of the toads looking at her, their expressions solemn. Only Shima’s face displayed a brief flicker of concern, but Fukasaku laid his hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

It was he who spoke this time, his own voice measured and patient. It seemed so out of character with the toad who had, less than an hour ago, been bickering with his wife.

“We’re trying to find your father. Last we heard, he was deep in the Land of Tea looking for that Orochimaru.” He hesitated as Murasaki dabbed fervently at her eyes with her sleeves. “There is nothing to fear. You will always have a place to go. Shima and I will take care of you.”

Murasaki felt her lip trembling once more, the lump re-forming in her throat. His words did little to console her, instead having the exact opposite effect. Instead of showing her despair openly, she pressed her sleeves harder against her face, thanking them through tears and layers of fabric, her entire body barely trembling beneath the surface.

Not only was there no guarantee that Konoha would still be there, her father was missing…Minato and Kushina and Gai…there was no telling if they would still be alive…

And Kakashi…

What would become of them?

It felt as though she would die of despair if she lost anyone else…

Murasaki bit back a moan at the thought, her head aching sharply, her sinuses dry and raw from crying.

“Oh dear…” Shima sighed, appearing quite suddenly at Murasaki’s elbow and laying a comforting hand on the girl’s knee. “There, there, little one… there’s no need to cry. Gamabunta will return and then we’ll take you back…”

Murasaki exhaled through gritted teeth, raising her head and looking at the ceiling beams to try to regain what little composure she could. 

An uneasy silence befell the room. Shima patted Murasaki gently to try to calm the girl down. Murasaki dabbed at her running nose with her sleeves, embarrassed by her despair, her ingratitude toward the couple for their kindness.

They barely knew her and had taken her in like she was one of their own...

Why couldn’t she just be grateful?

She took a deep swig of the tea. It tasted awful, but made her aching throat feel infinitely better. What she really wanted was water, but the fear of further imposition kept her voice locked in her throat.

Shima poured her a second cup of the acrid fluid, her face holding a serene smile despite the uncertainty in her yellow eyes.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and gentle murmuring from Shima, Murasaki regained control. She bowed once again to her hosts and folded her hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry for my poor behavior. I’m grateful for your hospitality,” she said quietly. “Please accept my deepest apology.”

There was another long silence, Shima and Fukasaku exchanging glances, before the little room was suddenly filled with an outburst of laughter that felt like an assault on every fiber of Murasaki's being.

How could anyone find it in themselves to laugh at such a dire time?

“No no, don’t you worry about it, little one!” Shima croaked, waving her hand dismissively, her other making a minuscule effort to cover her wide mouth.

“Are we sure she’s Jiraiya’s spawn?” Fukasaku was doing the toad equivalent of a belly laugh, which sounded more akin to a human choking. “He was never this polite!”

Murasaki looked up, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up in her eyes. She tried to blink them away but this only seemed to make them worse. They burned as they streaked down raw cheeks, disappearing into the corners of her mouth or simply pooling below her chin.

The room sobered and fell silent again as another toad appeared quite suddenly, leaning in quite close to speak to Fukasaku, who took one long drag from his pipe as he sat up to listen with rapt attention.

The mood of the room immediately shifted and Murasaki found herself holding her breath as she watched. After a moment, they both glanced up, Fukasaku rising abruptly and leaving with the other toad.

"Konoha was able to weather the war, little one." Shima said gently as she watched her husband leave. "All will be well. It's natural to have concern for your friends, for your home. But this is the reality of the world of Shinobi."

Murasaki bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Shima's words, while well-intentioned, did nothing to help Murasaki’s feelings.

The old toad considered Murasaki for a moment, her eyes soft as she continued to speak calmly.

"You are so much your father's spawn, despite your differences; he struggled with the tolls of a shinobi's life, too...Such generous hearts you both have..."

Murasaki felt a hollowness settle into her chest as the older toad spoke of her father.

She wouldn't describe the man as having a gentle heart, though now that she thought about it, perhaps it wasn't untrue... He didn't have to take her in, he didn't have to be so close to Minato and Kushina… Come to think of it, he did seem invested in the well being of the village, of those around him...

In truth, she didn’t feel as though she knew him outside his reputation. He was never home long enough for her to know him well and much about the man who was her father remained a mystery. 

She had, of course, heard of his feats of his youth, of bold acts in times of war. People, Jiraiya included, didn’t hesitate to remind her of these. 

But there was much more to the man; sometimes he’d bring her origami paper on the rare times he’d come home, how there was always a bit of despair behind his dark eyes on the nights he sat up late drinking sake and writing until his hands were dark with ink. 

He was good at deflecting, at making things seem more trivial than they were. Of catching himself when he got too serious and countering with a hearty laugh. 

There were days she missed him so much it was like having a constant ache in the pit of her stomach, and now was no different.

Quite suddenly, the air around her shifted into one of tension that seemed to make the air around her vibrate. Murasaki understood all too well what it meant.

"It will be over soon, Murasaki-chan." Shima's voice was low and throaty, her eyes full of a mixture of hope and uncertainty.She was watching Murasaki with a guarded expression, as if considering her carefully. 

"He's back." the girl said softly, feeling herself begin to tremble. She felt herself go both hot and cold at the same time as she turned towards the door, rising to her feet.

The sun's first rays were beginning to turn the horizon into a heavy crimson color that immediately filled her with dread.

"Murasaki, wait!"

She didn't hear Shima calling after her as she sprinted from her place next to the irori and tore out the open door, not even pausing to put on her shoes as her feet pounded the dew-soaked steps down to the valley floor.

Already, one could see a crowd of toads converging, surrounding Gamabunta entirely. Murasaki started skipping steps, taking them two and three at a time before she elbowed her way through the crowd, pushing past toads nearly twice her size as she fought to get to the front.

Behind her, she could hear Shima trying to keep her pace. Murasaki wanted to turn around and tell her not to worry; to catch up later, but she was fixed on a singular purpose: she had to get to Gamabunta.

Her vision was blurred with relief and fear; if Gamabunta had survived, then surely all hope was not lost for Konoha?

As she moved towards the front of the crowd, her tabi now saturated with morning dew, the sunlight casting a promising golden glow on the jagged grey cliffs across the valley.

In the intensity of the light, Murasaki could clearly see cuts and scrapes in the giant toads flesh from where the Kyuubi had fought hard against him.

Despite the crowd of toads that had gathered, their voices raised in cries of jubilation, Murasaki felt nothing but a cold numbness spread over her, her eyes burning as her heart sank.

The morning light was suddenly too bright, making the girl feel strange, as if her body didn't belong to her. As if she were observing from the outside as Gamabunta passed silently, his expression dark as he shrugged off the crowd of well-wishers.

She let her arms fall to her side, the megafauna's eyes drifting briefly upon her, his amber gaze lingering for just a moment before he returned to his procession. He disappeared wordlessly into the giant leaves which covered the mountain.

Murasaki stayed rooted to the spot, even after the crowd had dispersed, her mind unable to focus on the cavalcade of information that had been thrown at her.

It was as if a part of her had stopped working, like a discarded wind-up toy. The crank still turned and the gears still whirred, but there was no longer any movement.

Gamabunta's dark-rimmed eyes glowed amber in her memory, a message left unspoken between them. Part of Murasaki wasn't ready to accept the harsh truth, but she also knew in her heart of hearts that it truly was over.

Without a work, she sank to her knees, the trembling taking over, her body shaking violently with grief.

Shima appeared at her side as a morning breeze picked up, blowing stray leaves and debris past the pair. The sunlight fell around her, but offered her no warmth. It only made the situation feel more ominous and grotesquely tangible.

"Take me back, Obaachan..." Her voice came out quiet, even, and far more certain than she anticipated. Nonetheless, Shima nodded solemnly, one webbed hand set firmly on Murasaki's arm.

XxX   
  


Kakashi swayed on his feet as exhaustion and despair threatened to overtake him. Beside him, his eagle-masked captain gently clutched the squirming bundle that was the Kyuubi's new vessel.

One firm hand was cradling the infant's head against a muscular shoulder, blue eyes burning beneath the mask as they looked straight ahead. Even now, in these moments of exhaustion and vulnerability, every inch of Kajia-taichou's bearing commanded a sort of respect that Kakashi hoped to communicate someday.

There was an awkward fragility in Kajia's grasp on the child, as if the baby boy would shatter at any moment. The tiny being seeming so much smaller than Kakashi had anticipated, his face red and squashed looking beneath the shock of blond hair that poked beneath the blanket.

Were all newborn babies that small? Had  _ he _ ever been that small?

Before the regiment of ragged and disheveled soldiers stood an elderly man, hands folded neatly behind his back as he looked grimly down the line of ANBU. Kakashi knew him well; Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage.

His face was cool, his eyes sharp as he looked out across the battle-worn lines of ANBU. His gaze bored through the disheveled troops. Those who were strong enough to remain standing had been assembled before the man, who stood to address the group as they stood in the still-smoking rubble of what used to be a residential area.

“As many of you know, upon the Fourth Hokage’s death he charged me with the responsibility of looking after the Kyuubi's vessel. Of continuing to look after Konohagakure, in its best interests..."  He paused, casting an exhausted glanced in Kajia-taichou's direction before he continued. There seemed to be something else beneath that look that Kakashi was struggling to decode. Kajia-taichou remained as still as a statue, moving only to comfort the infant as he stirred.

"Clearly, it will be in the best interest of the village to seek out someone to take Minato-sama's place. Until that day, I shall act as interim Hokage. As for the jinchuuriki, no one will speak of his origins, for the safety of the boy. It is more than enough that the infant will be a target due to his status as jinchuuriki...we needn't add more of a risk to the boys life."

Kakashi felt his body go both hot and cold as he dared another sidelong glance at Kajia.

"You are all charged with protecting the child, of making sure he grows sufficiently and does not fall into enemy hands." The Third raised his head, his eyes flashing in a way that sent a thrill down Kakashi's spine. "Assist where you can in the rebuilding of the village. We are especially vulnerable in this time an-"

The Third was cut short by a faint 'pop', followed by the sudden appearance of a large toad about ten feet to his left. He turned, frowning slightly at the creature, who wore a vest of deep blue with 'oil' written on the back in kanji.

All eyes fell onto the creature, who blinked dumbly at them for a moment. Its eyes gave Kakashi the creeps; wide and staring, with slitted pupils that didn't seem to focus on anything for a moment.

"Forgive the intrusion," the toad said, shifting slightly as he eyed the crowd. He looked deeply uncomfortable, perhaps even a little embarrassed at the intrusion.

"Did Jiraiya send you?"

"No, Sarutobi-sama, I come on another errand." The toad spoke measuredly, enunciating carefully as he inclined his head just so. Kakashi couldn't help but feel a tangible apprehension as the old man stood, facing the creature.

Perhaps it was exhaustion and hypervigilance, but something felt terribly off about this toad, and Kakashi couldn't quite put his finger on it. He stared at it, as if by sheer willpower alone he could summon enough chakra to use his sharingan.

"Well then, what is it that brings you to us?" The Third's voice was thin, but patient. The closest ANBU already had their hands on their swords, ready to strike should the need arise.

Instead, the toad opened his mouth wide, seemingly expanding beyond the means of his frame, like a snake unhinging its jaw.

All ANBU where at the ready when a shape formed in the depths of its mouth, growing larger as if it were amassing matter with each moment that ticked by.

Still, The Third kept his hand raised for the ANBU to stand by until further direction. Kakashi summoned all of his strength to unsheathe his sword, shifting his weight to his right foot to prepare to strike. Kajia-taichou visibly stiffened, ready to carry the jinchuuriki to safety.

Seconds later, the toad spat out the shape, which formed a familiar red and white clad figure onto the ground before the Hokage.

Kakashi's heart nearly burst from his chest as an unfamiliar sting started in his eyes. A wave of relief swept over him. He let his sword fall with a clamor, taking three steps towards the figure, his arms falling limp to his sides. He could have laughed in relief right then, some kind of uncontrollable sound bubbling in his chest.

Rows of dark eyes were on him, their expressions hidden behind masks. No one spoke, but Kakashi could feel their gaze nonetheless. He had been the first to break their rank, but his shame was outweighed by the bizarre mixture of relief that filled him. 

Murasaki sat up, dirt and ash clinging to her slime covered figure, hair sticking to her face as she glanced about in embarrassment and confusion. She only wore one geta, the other nowhere to be found.

The entire crowd fell deadly silent, each waiting for the Hokage's word to strike as the girl sat coughing and gasping. Tears ran ready down her face. She visibly struggled to find fabric that wasn't saturated in slime and bile, first trying her sleeves before settling into an expression of absolute and unspoken despair.

Instead, the old man let out a shocked laugh from low in his belly as the girl wiped sludge from her face, the missing geta clattering to the ground behind her as the toad belched it out unceremoniously.

Kakashi was by her side in a second, almost too afraid to touch her out of fear she was an illusion that would shatter. He couldn't quite grasp the relief that swept over him in this moment, but all he knew was that his heart, while heavy, felt a little lighter now that she was back in Konoha.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, the writers block was real, and I'm really sorry it took so long to pull this chapter out. 
> 
> Thanks again to Seals from the Naruto OC Critiques discord for helping me out. Honestly, without them, this chapter would probably not exist.


End file.
